


On your wrist

by malixa



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, M/M, No dude I mean like a disturbing amount of bad puns..., Panic Attacks, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Shotgunning, a disturbing amount of bad puns, mentions/discussions of Bipolar disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:19:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malixa/pseuds/malixa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul mate AU. </p><p>Everyone had one. A small tattoo on his or her wrist, a timer displaying how many days, hours, minutes and seconds was left until they finally knew his or her soul mate. When the timing was right, which usually happened during some big event, first look, first meet, first touch, first kiss - the tattoo timer would disappear and be replaced with the initials of your soul mate. Accompanying it came the feeling of bliss and euphoria, that was at least what people said it felt like. </p><p>Ian had always been curious about his soul mate. His timer had always been an ever-changing countdown but he never expected it to change the way it did. </p><p>Things were after all never destined to be easy for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What the everloving fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few notes before you read.
> 
> 1\. English isn't my native language so there might be some incorrect grammar.
> 
> 2\. I've explained as well as I could how soul mates work but if any part is difficult to grasp, let me know so I can clarify it.

Everyone had one. A small tattoo on his or her wrist, a timer displaying how many days, hours, minutes and seconds it was until they met his or her soul mate. When the timing was right - which usually happened during some big event, first meet, first touch, first kiss - the timer would disappear and be replaced with the initials of your soulmate.It never took long, when the connection was made the tattoos would imprint themselves. Accompanying the tattoo came the feeling of bliss and euphoria, that was at least what people said it felt like. Later on, usually at some undefinable moment, the remaining part of the tattoo would come in, the Date _._ Capital D for  _the_ date when everything was set in stone, when one fell in love.

The initial tattoo didn't necessarily appear the first time you saw your soul mate or talked to them. In some cases people might have seen their soul mate and never bothered to cast them a second look, in others people even bumped into their soul mate without noticing. It was all about timing and coincidence.

Fiona dated Jimmy for a year without knowing that they were soul mates, and then Jimmy suddenly disappeared. When he came back two years later shit hit the fan. All of the Gallaghers had been there when it happened. A sudden knock had made them pause from their dinner, the chatter dying down when Fiona opened the door  to reveal Jimmy standing there.

A long agonizing minute passed where something unspoken happened between them. Ian hadn't realized what had been going on at the time. All he saw was a tense moment, his sister's eyes tearing up in anger and then she had snapped out of it. Suddenly she was yelling and pounding her fists at Jimmy's chest until he was out on the freezing porch. She'd slammed the door shut, grabbed the half full beer from Lip's hand and told them all to start eating again.

Later that night, when Ian came knocking on her bedroom door to check on her she'd let him in. In a low voice, she'd told him that her tattoo had changed, she'd known without even checking. Gone was the ever changing timer and in its place, Jimmy's initials had appeared. He'd wanted to ask if he could see it, but asking was generally considered rude. It wasn't like he hadn't seen others. Except for in certain cultures or religions, most people didn't cover their tattoos. There were even pictures of a few examples in several of his books at school, though the lessons they'd had on the subject were sparse.

When he asked what it felt like, Fiona shook her head. "I don't even know how to explain it. Electric maybe. I don't know what to compare it to, but it was good. It felt...amazing." 

Ian had nodded, looking down at the timer on his wrist. He could only imagine.

**∞**

It was inexplicable how soul mates worked. Academics had tried to figure it out for centuries, but no theory was wholly accepted by every field. Despite the uncertainties, it seemed to add up. Soul mates lived longer and healthier lives, and were much less likely to be sufferers of domestic abuse or addictions. That didn't mean that neither of those things didn't occur in soul mate relationships, they did, but at a lower rate. 

Fate rarely paired you up with someone you didn't meet, but some people had a never-changing row of zeroes on their wrist and never met their soul mate. Frank's timer had never changed, and neither had that boy's in Ian's grade.

Ian's parents had never been soul mates, but he didn't like thinking about how different it could have been if they were. Frank had always had just a row of zeroes on his wrist, while Monica's timer had been a lot like Ian's, temperamental.

The timers were fickle things and sometimes acted like they had a mind of their own. The timer acted on your choices, walking down one street could leave you with five days until meeting your soul mate and walking into a into a diner changed it into four thousand instead  When Ian had been ten he'd been spent a whole day jogging around in the streets, trying to get his number down to as few days he could. The best he could do had been twelve. 

At times, if your soul mate was in danger or life threatening situations the timer could disappear all together. And it didn't always come back.

It had happened the first time when Ian was thirteen. He'd woken up in the middle of the night feeling out of place and unnerved. He'd sat up in bed and studied his wrist, realizing with a shock that it was gone. It had completely disappeared. He was too shocked to anything about it at the time, he just stared at it helplessly and hoped he wouldn't end up soul mate less. All of a sudden he'd felt a wave wash over him and the numbers came back again. 09489 d, 04 h, 46 min, 13 s.

When he woke up the morning after, the numbers were still there. Over the next few years he came to learn that his soul mate must have something of a death wish because it still happened on rare occasions, leaving Ian feeling bereft in the few short moments he was without his timer.

Lip said that it was normal. That it just happened sometimes and though he'd probably meant to be reassuring, it didn't stop Ian from worrying.

He was really jealous of Mandy when she got hers at sixteen, which was rather early considering the average of 29. The two of them had been working on a assignment together with their books spread out on the living room table when it happened. Lip had walked right passed them and said a quick hello, telling Ian to double bag it with a smirk before walking into the kitchen. When he passed them the second time he suddenly went  completely motionless and stared at Mandy. She'd met his eyes and then it happened. Ian had been oblivious and continued writing in his notebook, after a few seconds Lip had excused himself and Mandy sat there with her mouth open, completely shell-shocked. She nudged Ian's shoulder and pulled down her sleeve. They both watched as the tattoo slowly imprinted itself on her wrist. Ian had read about it and he had seen in in movies but he had never seen it happen in real life before. It was actually kind of beautiful; in a weird way, watching as ink seeped into her skin. He recognized his brother's flickery handwriting right away even if there only were two letters, but there it was... _P.G_.

“Holy fucking shit, Ian.” Mandy had stuttered. He'd grinned at her and Mandy had gone up stairs and while Ian had finished up their project. It didn’t take more than two weeks before Lip and Mandy were officially together. Six months later their Date tattoos had kicked in.  

**∞**

By seventeen Ian had grown really fucking tired of his timer; the damn thing kept flickering all the time or it didn't move at all. He started ignoring it completely and didn't spend as much time as he used to staring at it. Until one morning when he was standing in the shower and happened to glance at it. The timer said 0000 d, 05 h, 14 min, 3 s. The number had never been that low and Ian started to wonder if it was actually going to happen this time. When he ate breakfast that morning he actually started feeling jittery.

He really fucking prayed it wouldn’t happen at school, it wouldn’t necessarily be obvious to anyone else of course, but he just didn’t want it to happen with fifty other students in the hallway. That would just be awkward. He went to find his science book and stopped by the bathroom door, where he could hear Lip brushing his teeth.

“Hey Lip?” Ian asked and let the door swing open.

“Yeah, what?”

“How does it feel? When the timer is up?”

Lip's mouth quirked.“We don’t have a proper word for it in English but I read one time that there’s this Norwegian word for it, Forelsket, don't know how to say it but that doesn't matter. It describes the feeling when you really start liking _liking_  someone. The euphoric lightness and the way you feel almost high when that one person smiles at you or just look at you. It’s because it releases these massive amounts of Dopamine and it actually changes the way your brain is wired. It activates the pleasure centers and stimulates the production of adrenaline. Those two chemicals combined with oxytocin, which is released into your body when you’re touching, kissing, fucking etc. makes you feel high or intoxicated or whatever. That’s what it feels like… all compressed into a few seconds. It's kind of awesome, kind of awful.”

Ian nodded to himself. It didn't sound bad at all, but he still wouldn't know who his soul mate was standing there in front of him. The thought was daunting.

“It’s happening today isn’t it?” Lip asked.

“Maybe.”

"It'll be fine, Ian. He's probably some nice guy, all right?"

Ian nodded again, he hung back for a second until he caught Lip's eyes in the mirror again. “Thanks, Lip.”

“No prob. Tell Mands to call me later?”

“Sure,” Ian answered. He fished up his phone from his pocket and sent Mandy a text.

 

 ** _Ian 08.11 am_**  

_you think you can meet me a bit earlier today?_

  

 ** _Mandy 8.12 am_**  

_why? something happened?_

 

 ** _Ian 8.12_**  

_no, but it might... **  
**_

 

 ** _Mandy 8.13_**  

_this better be fucking good Ian_

The weather was frigid outside. Ian swore his fingers were just a minute from turning entirely blue when Mandy finally arrived. She was wearing at least two hoodies under her jacket, threadbare finger-less gloves and a scowl so fierce Ian forgot about his nerves for a second.

“Hey," Mandy said and shuffled close enough to him to grab his hand. "If you dragged me out here in this shitty cold for a something stupid I’ll be really fucking pissed.”

“My timer’s about to disappear, I think.” Ian answered.

Mandy’s mouth fell open and her hand tightened on his.“That’s great Ian! What’s up with all the Gallagher boys being so goddamn early?”

Ian answered with a shrug. They stood in silence for a moment, just dithering until Ian had manage to gather his thoughts.

“Isn't it scary?" He asked and shuffled his shoe in the snow. "I mean, before you knew it was Lip. Didn't you think it was scary not knowing who it was supposed to be?"

Mandy furrowed her eyebrows, deep in thought. “Well, yeah, but I didn't think that much about it to be honest. I didn't think that it would happen this soon, and I guess I wasn't sure it would happen to me anyway."

Ian squeezed Mandy's hand.

"It's gonna be fine, Ian. You wouldn't be ending up with this guy if he didn't deserve you."

“Yeah." Ian said, not certain he was believing that.

When they entered the school his timer had changed to 0000 d, 12 h, 36 min, 23 s. Ian wasn't sure whether to feel relived or not, but the sinking feeling in his stomach definitely felt like disappointment. He didn't pay attention all through the day, shuffling from class to class with as much enthusiasm as a man walking the plank. 

By the time his last class ended his timer showed 0000 d, 00 h, 04 min, 12 s. Maybe it really was going to happen. With his heart pounding in his chest he packed his things slowly, knowing that Mandy would be waiting for him in the lot. He left the classroom, waiting for the stream of students to pass before he resolutely followed them. He checked his timer…03 min, 02 s.

Then again by the stairs. 0000 d, 00 h, 02 min, 12 s.

Ian reached for his padlock, putting his combination in. Was he supposed to be doing something? He had no clue what to do with himself, so he just plucked out his biology book and shoved it into his backpack. With his hands shaking it was hard to pull the zipper up, but he managed, cursing the growing bubble of nervousness in his chest.

01 min, 23 s. He was going to loose his mind if he kept standing still so he shoved his locker shut and threw his backpack over his shoulder to head outside. 

00 min, 53 s. Jesus; he swore he could hear cell in his body screaming at him to get it the fuck together. He’d had his whole life to prepare for this moment, why the fuck was he so jittery? He turned the corner of the hallway, trying not to give into the temptation to run. Why he was even feeling that urge boggled him; he'd been dreaming about this moment his whole life. And it was happening _now._

00 min, 27 s.  He kept walking towards the entrance, then checked his timer again. It was suddenly up to 20 min, 51 s. What the fuck?

He stopped in the hallway, right in front of the door and watched the seconds on his wrist tick by.

The timer jumped down to 12 seconds, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6. It was really happening, Ian realized. 5,4,3,2,1. Suddenly someone was shoving him out of the way to reach the door, bumping into him roughly.

“Learn how to walk Gallagher, are you fucking five?” Ian looked up at the source of the voice. Mickey Milkovich?

Ian watched Mickey's back as he felt it starting, the feeling Lip had talked about.

The air in his lungs left him in a rush, and the next breath he took seemed to expand from his chest and all the way to the tips of his fingers. It cursed through his veins, something light and fiery at once, lighting him up from the inside.

Mickey had stopped with his hand on the door handle, completely still.

It was overwhelming. Completely overpowering and unconditional. This was it. Ian could feel it, and when Mickey turned, his heart jumped in his chest. Mickey was watching him, mouth slightly open, blue eyes wide and just a little too bright. How had Ian never noticed how blue Mickey's eyes were?

Ian let out a little breathless noise, something amazed and surprised. His heart was still pounding away in his chest, surging against his ribs. This was really it, what he had been waiting for. His hand reached out, almost of its own mind to - Ian didn't know - to touch Mickey maybe, to make sure that this was real.

Just as his fingers were to make contact Mickey jerked back. The light in his eyes vanished and before Ian had even managed to get a word out Mickey was pulling the door open and left it swinging on its hinges. As Mickey disappeared, so did the wondrous feeling Ian had just experienced. The warmth slipped away from him until all he was left with was the cold draft that seeped through the door. It happened so suddenly that Ian was left feeling bereft, as if he'd just lost something. Something important, he thought, standing in a hallway that suddenly seemed much darker.

Mickey must have felt that. He must have. Ian was certain of it. But why had he just walked away? Why had jerked away from Ian as if he lesser than dirt? Maybe Ian was the only one who had felt it?

Ian was almost scared to check, but he _had_ to. He pulled down his sleeve and looked at his wrist...there was nothing there.

No timer, no initials... _fuck._

 


	2. Hurray for biological fathers

“Lear how to walk Gallagher, What are you fucking five?” Mickey said as he shoved his way past him.

Mickey reached the door before he felt it. It started in his chest, this amazing feeling he'd never felt before. It spread through him until it had reached all of him, filling him completely.It was intoxicating. It felt like he was inhaling pure fucking heaven for a second - as if he'd never had a breath of fresh air until now.

He still had his back to Gallagher. He could still walk away with his dignity intact, but Mickey didn't want to. He wanted to see. Their eyes met and Mickey saw electricity flare up in Gallagher’s eyes, his face lit up in awe and the tiniest of smiles materialized on his face. His eyes glowed as if the sun was illuminating his face, bright and hopeful.

Mickey thought his might burst right out of his chest. He didn’t know how long they stood there staring at each other, but it was far too long because Mickey was drunk on it. That feeling...Christ. He snapped out of it when Gallagher reached for him, shaking it off as if it was nothing but a dream.

His legs felt more determined than he did as he walked home. His chest felt too tight for his lungs, and though he tried he couldn’t stop his fingers from trembling. To his relief, the house was empty when he finally made it home. He hurriedly pulled off his clothes and jumped into the shower while the water was still cold, shivering a little.

Mickey had never believed in the soul mate bullshit, but he had seen it succeed over and over again, time after time so he couldn't quite ignore the voice in the back of his head, telling him that this might be the one.

He closed his eyes and let the water wash down his face. Mickey had never been loved, not like that… He didn’t know what it felt like and he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. But it was inevitable wasn’t it? It just happened, you weren't supposed to choose your soul mate. He never thought he would actually have a soul mate, even with a timer he never thought it would happen. Why would it?  He had always tried to ignore the ticking on his wrist, he never allowed himself to be lulled into the belief that someday somebody would love him. Who would ever want to anyway?

He hadn't actually checked his wrist yet, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He chanced a look at it, glancing at it briefly. The letter _I_ was imprinted on his skin, it jarred his memory. Ian, Gallagher's name was Ian. But where the fuck was the _G_? He had no idea how much he had hoped Ian was his soul mate until the possibility was suddenly taken away from him. Why would only one letter appear and nothing else?

Maybe the chance was still there? There was an  _I_ there already…maybe the rest would come later? He studied the letter; it was in careful writing, a small, shaky line. It didn’t seem to match who it belonged to, Mickey knew that Ian was in the military program or whatever; Mickey had seen him jog past his house a couple of times and the writing seemed so careful, uncharacteristic. But why the fuck only one letter? What was that supposed to mean?

Mickey felt like throwing up. He suddenly felt nauseated and  didn’t know why. Maybe he was supposed to be with Ian now? He didn’t know, so he got out of the shower and threw some clothes on. He walked out to the porch for a cigarette and hoped things would start to make sense.

∞  

Ian looked at his wrist and begged for something to happen, anything at all. He would even be content if his timer came back with all zeros and he would end up being alone all his life, but nothing happened and his wrist remained empty of the letters he so badly wanted to see there. He had never heard of anyone that didn’t have a tattoo, what was he supposed to do now? Mickey must have felt it too. He must have. Ian looked down at his wrist again, still nothing. He stood there for a couple of seconds before pulling his sleeve down and exiting the school. Mandy was standing by the tables so he made his way over and hoped she wouldn’t pry about his timer, he didn’t even know how to explain what had just happened.

“What took so long? Did it happen?” Mandy asked as soon as he appeared by her side.

“Uh, no.” 

Mandy nodded slowly with a small smile, flicking er cigarette. “No worries Ian. It’ll happen sooner or later.”

Ian wasn’t sure if it did just happen or not because he had felt it, he knew he had but his wrist suggested otherwise.

She passed him her cigarette and they walked home, Ian absently listening to Mandy as she talked. They split up at the L, Mandy was going to work and Ian continued his way home alone, feeling cold and alone.

When Ian came through the front door he was relieved to see his brother on the couch. His lap and every other surface within a 4 feet radius were covered in books and papers. Pointedly, Ian slammed the door shut and reveled a little in the way Lip jumped.

“Hey, did you meet lover boy today?” Lip asked.

“My timer disappeared.” Ian answered as he plopped down on the couch and placed his feet in Lip’s lap.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to. So who’s the lucky guy?” Lip asked.

Ian ignored his question and pulled up his sleeve and let his empty wrist speak for itself.

“What the fuck?” Lip mumbled as he studied Ian’s wrist.

“Nothing replaced it. No initials, no date…No fucking nothing.” 

“You sure it was him though? Maybe you just thought it was and your timer is just…on pause?” Lip asked and regretted it immediately when he saw Ian’s offended face. Ian considered the possibility, but he knew what he had felt, he had seen it in Mickey’s eyes too. He had played the scenario in his head over and over again. He'd felt so certain, but doubt still crept into his mind, maybe Lip was right? He realized he wasn’t sure anymore, maybe Mickey wasn’t his soul mate. But that feeling…he just couldn’t forget about it.

“My timer disappeared didn’t it? I know what he felt when he saw me...you can’t fake that.” Ian said after a few seconds of silence. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or Lip.

“Well, I guess you should go do something about it then. Who is he by the way?” Lip asked.

“Mickey Milkovich.” Ian answered. He watched as Lip's mouth fall open before he barked out a laugh. 

“You’re not kidding? You're serious?” Lip asked disbelievingly.

“Course I am. Why the fuck would I joke about that?” Ian asked, growing more annoyed by the second. Why couldn’t things just be easy for once?

“Are you absolutely sure about this? Cause I would want to be sure before making a move on Mickey. I mean, he’s not known for wearing flowers crowns and riding unicorns.” 

“I’m sure. I felt it.”

“You’re gonna get your balls kicked in if you’re wrong.” Lip said bluntly.

“Possibly… But it’s supposed to be inevitable right? It's supposed to be set in stone.”

“But what if you're wrong though?"

Ian didn't bother to answer.

"So what's the plan? Are you going to give him roses and put flower petals on his bed? Serenade him with Barry Manilow and ask him on a date?” Lip asked.

“Fuck if I know but don't you think I'm right though? I wouldn't have felt anything if he wasn't my soul mate, right?”

"I don’t really care as long as you keep your dirty shoes off my books.” Lip sighed and shoved Ian’s legs from his lap. "Just grow some balls and do something about it, hell, just talk to him?"

Ian had pretty much made up his mind, if seeing Mickey would make him feel like he was on cloud fucking nine he wasn’t going to give it up without trying. So he gathered his courage, ignored Lip when he yelled out a really sarcastic and useless vote of confidence and started walking.

The closer Ian got to the Milkovich's house the more anxious he got. Ian hated being anxious; he usually never was so when it happened it got bad. He lit up a cigarette and hoped it would calm the twitch in his fingers. That idea was pretty much shot in the head when he saw Mickey sitting on the front steps with a cigarette of his own. Ian stuttered in his path a little, but he stood tall and stopped just a few feet short of the steps.

“Mandy’s not here.” Mickey said, looking a little twitchy himself.

“I know, I didn’t come for Mandy.” Ian answered. Mickey’s mouth twitched a little, just a tiny bit but Ian still noticed. He wanted to be closer to Mickey, so he sat down by his side, careful to not sit too close.

“Then what did you come for?” Mickey asked.

“I came to find out why your name isn’t on my wrist, cause it feels like it should be.” Ian answered bluntly. Mickey frowned in confusion, and then he suddenly looked relieved. Ian couldn’t help but feel a bit offended, why would Mickey be so relieved that Ian didn’t have his name?

“Your-” Mickey trailed off awkwardly. When his words failed him he sighed and pulled his sleeve up and let Ian see the line there. It was just one letter, what the hell?

“What do you think it means?” Ian asked. Mickey bit his lower lip and gave a small shake of his head. This was as good a time as any, so Ian decided to pull up his sleeve and his wrist was empty, blank. That was even more confusing than Mickey’s.

“What do you think _that_  means?” 

Mickey shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Good to know that you’re more fucked up than I am though.” 

His hand was resting on his knee, palm up towards the sky, his wrist still in view. Ian moved on instinct and reached his fingers out. The charge between them this time was unmistakable, Ian welcomed the feeling and grinned as it spread through his chest. When Ian went to pull his hand back, they both watched with wide eyes when another letter on Mickey's wrist appeared. Mickey's heart almost stopped beating in his chest, because the letter had looked like a G, but turned out to be a C...


	3. getting there?

Mickey was confused again, Ian wasn’t his soul mate but his touch made things appear on his skin, yeah… as if that made a lot of fucking sense. He looked at Ian and hoped Ian had an explanation cause Mickey himself had none whatsoever. Ian studied Mickey’s wrist, a relieved smile on his face before he noticed Mickey’s frown.

“It’s my middle name.” Ian explained and grinned.

“What's it stand for?” Mickey asked. Ian shrugged a little and mumbled a vague response. Mickey was curious so he kept on staring at him with his eyebrows raised until Ian's cheeks turned a little pink. Ian casted him a side glance before sighing, giving in to Mickey’s stare.

“It’s Clayton...” It took all of two seconds before Mickey started laughing and fuck if it didn’t sound amazing in Ian’s ears. He would have gotten annoyed if it was anyone else, but the sound of Mickey laughing made Ian happier than he would like to admit. For some lame fucking reason it made him feel good, being laughed off actually made him happy. If the cost of Mickey laughing was that Ian had to be the butt of the joke, he would gladly pay up.

“Asshole.” he muttered but couldn’t help but grin when he looked back at Mickey again.

“Seriously? Clayton? Are you a eighty year old man or what?”

“It’s my father’s name. Guess I’m named after him or something.”

“I thought Frank was your dad.” Mickey said and Ian gave that weird half assed shrug again, Mickey had already picked up the fact that Ian did that shrug when he wanted to avoid a subject. Amazingly easy to read, Ian wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Uh, my mom slept with Clayton, Frank’s brother. So Frank is technically my uncle and Clayton's the uncle of my other siblings. That makes me their cousing and their half brother...technically but it's not like any of us acknowledge that the whole thing ever happened.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Well, what isn’t fucked up?” Ian asked and looked out into the dark street. It was darkening outside and it was cold but it wasn’t so bad as long as they both were sitting there together.

“What do you think it means?” Ian asked and turned to look at Mickey. Ian found it hard not to reach over and kiss him right away, cause Mickey’s nose was rosy, matching his cold cheeks and he looked fucking kissable even with a scowl on his face. Ian hadn’t noticed Mickey before, which he now found odd because now he couldn’t stop noticing things about him. Mickey was biting his lip and Ian idly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him.

“What means what?” Mickey asked and snapped Ian out of his thoughts.

“The initials and the date, I mean…are they supposed to come in later? Because the C is there now, and it appeared when I touched you right?” Ian tried to make some sense of their shared stupid situation but it wasn’t like there was a manual or anything, which there actually fucking should be. 

Mickey didn’t answer; it wasn’t like he knew more than Ian anyways. It suddenly occurred to Ian that all he had to do was to touch Mickey and the C had appeared, what if that was all it took? Ian felt nervous and giddy at the thought, the thought of being closer to Mickey. It felt odd, he barely knew the guy and the attraction he felt was so unfamiliar and yet it felt like second nature. He tried not to think about it too much knowing he would chicken out if he did, so he just leaned forward with the intention of kissing Mickey until a hand on his chest suddenly stopped him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mickey asked gruffly.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Ian asked.

For a moment they just stared at each other. Mickey’s hand on Ian’s chest eased off a little but instead of removing it, his hand remained there, holding his palm flat on Ian’s chest. Mickey could feel Ian’s heartbeat under his palm; it was beating really fast, matching his own. Ian had always been good at reading people but Mickey was a fucking mystery to him and it sounded pathetic, even in his head but there was nothing else he wanted than to find out more about him. He reached up a hand and cradled Mickey’s jaw; he let another second pass and watched Mickey’s reaction. His hand slid up Ian’s neck and that was all the answer Ian needed before he leaned over and pressed his lips against Mickey’s.

It wasn’t like he thought it would be, it was more urgent and demanding than any other first kiss he’d ever had, granted there hadn’t been more than a few. But this was his soul mate and it felt ethereal and fucking divine. He trailed his tongue along Mickey’s lower lip and reveled in the feeling of having Mickey this close. Mickey bit down on Ian’s lip and pulled a little before letting go, the effect was immediate as Ian smiled breathlessly against his lips.

Mickey didn’t know what to expect in those few seconds before Ian kissed him, the few thoughts he could actually follow were already gone and all he could focus on was Ian. Ian pecked his lips, once, twice, before leaning back and grinning really fucking wide and smug. Ian licked at his bottom lip and grinned again, it shouldn’t have made Mickey’s dick twitch but it kind of fucking did.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Mickey said and the words only served Ian to give this endearing, blissful look. He had no idea how Mickey calling him an idiot would make him smile, but not a lot of other things made sense so he just decided to let the thought go. Mickey didn’t know why but he suddenly felt a bit uneasy, he hated that his words seemed to slip right past Ian. As if the crude words didn't even faze him.

“Seriously, fuck off.” Mickey grumbled and Ian laughed a little.

“I wonder if-” Ian stopped himself and waited for a few seconds.

“What?” Mickey snapped.

“Can you feel it when it happens? The initials I mean.” Ian asked. Mickey was getting a bit annoyed, he didn’t really know how to talk to people, much less about shit like this.

“Yeah, I guess?” Mickey answered and fished a cigarette out of the pack on the porch. He lit up and inhaled until he felt his lungs fill up completely.

“Give me your hand.” Ian said and held his hand out palm up.

“I’m not holding your fucking hand.” Mickey grumbled.

“I didn’t ask to hold your hand, now come on.” Ian said and Mickey let Ian lift his hand up and run his fingers across the two letters on his wrist. Mickey looked away, let Ian run his fingers over the black lines but said nothing. It felt comforting and the moment Ian pulled away, Mickey wished that he hadn't.

“You still got nothing?” Mickey mumbled. Ian pulled up his sleeve and found his wrist empty. For some reason seeing it empty was worse this time, Ian wondered if they were fooling themselves…He pulled his sleeve down and tried not to care, which was useless. Neither of them had anything to say; Ian had been so sure that Mickey was his soul mate; he had felt that the possibility was there right in front of him and now it was taken away from him. Mickey felt like an idiot, why was Ian's initials appearing on his skin but nothing on Ian? The air around them changed, the cold had seemed warm when they kissed, sitting there surrounded by snow in the freezing air had almost felt warm when they were in each other’s presence, that warmth was gone now as the silence stretched between them.

“Can you just leave.” Mickey said, his voice hollow enough to sound cold. It shouldn’t have hurt Ian as much as it did, he didn’t even know Mickey and somehow just four words made him ache inside. He didn’t say anything, he was too busy with his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed how cold he'd become, he could hardly move his fingers.

“Didn’t you fucking hear me?” Mickey asked and stood up. He didn’t even know why it mattered so much to him but he didn’t want to fool himself into believing that there was anything between them when there clearly wasn’t.

“Did I do something wrong? Do you think it’s my fault?” Ian asked.

“I don’t- I don't even know you, just go away.” Mickey said.

“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t care? My initials are on your-”

“It doesn’t matter does it? It’s all bullshit anyways. If you’re going to read into a few fucking lines on my wrist maybe you should read into the fact that yours is fucking empty.” Mickey said and walked inside, slamming the door behind him taking the remaining warmth with him.

Mickey felt like a fucking idiot, why did he even think that Ian could be his soul mate? He left the door unlocked and walked further into the house; he didn’t have to go far before he found a half a bottle of whiskey on the floor. He slumped down on the floor of his room, his back towards the door, the lights off, his eyes closed as he drank his way to the bottom of the bottle. He was just tired sometimes, tired of being himself, tired of always ending up like this. He hated himself for letting him hope that Ian could be his, that he could be Ian’s. He hated himself for allowing himself to hope when hope had always been such a destructive thing for him, he needed to learn that he would never get what he wanted and that was just how it was going to be. 

∞ 

“Mickey! Let me the fuck in.”

Some asshole (read:Mandy) was knocking at his door and yelling obnoxiously loud, leave it to Mandy to wake him up in shitty way when he already felt like shit. He had fallen asleep on the floor, which he realized was fucking stupid to do 'cause his whole body was hurting. He opened his eyes and was grateful he had switched rooms last year, this room was luckily facing away from the sun most of the time, plus this room had a bigger bed.

“Go away.” he muttered as he got up from the floor. He was still in his clothes from yesterday so he kicked off his jeans and pulled off his sweater before dropping down on the bed.

“Mickey, can you just let me in?” Mandy pleaded.

“If it makes you shut the fuck up you can do whatever you want.” Mickey shouted back.

Mandy opened the door, walked straight over to his dresser and started rifling through his clothes.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“It’s like…two p.m.” Mandy answered and banged a drawer shut. She opened the next one, rifling through the contents and banging that one shut too.

“Jesus, what are you even looking for?”

“Your sleeveless hoodie, the black one.” Mandy said and shut another drawer louder than necessary.

“It’s on the floor.” Mickey mumbled into the pillow and stretched out his hands a little. Mandy walked around and searched on the floor a little before she found it next to the side opposite side Mickey was sleeping on, that was also when something else caught her eye. She crawled onto the bed and scrambled to his side.

“What the fuck is that?” She asked. “You have got to be shitting me.”

Mickey was confused at first until he followed her eyes and understood what she was talking about. He made a 

“Who the fuck is _I.C_?” She asked and lifted up his hand to study the lines.

“No one, can you fuck off now?” Mickey asked.

“I thought people who found their soul mate was supposed to be happy but no shock you’re as much of an asshole as always. No surprise there." Mandy muttered as she pulled the hoodie on. "Can't understand why you have one really." She said and snorted. Her words hurt, more than she had intended he guessed but Mickey couldn’t blame her. She had no fucking clue and Mickey wasn't going to tell her either.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“Going to Ian’s, why do you care?” She asked and eyed him carefully.

“Don’t.” He answered.

“Fine, enjoy the company of your shitty self.” She said and slammed the door shut behind her, leaving Mickey alone, unable to fall back asleep.


	4. "Hey"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all, this chapter is a whole lot of talk and a whole lot of emotions and not anything else really. I hope it’s okay though, I swear it will start moving forwards whenever I manage to get some flow back into my writing. My new meds are seriously messing with my ability to concentrate and sit still for more than five minutes at the time so bear with me please.  
> All character ages are season four compatible by the way.

It had been a long fucking week.

Ian tried not to be bothered by the lack of black imprints on his wrist but he was started to grow more frustrated and restless by the minute. He did his best to occupy himself with homework and workouts but his mind was determined to make things harder for him and kept wandering back to Mickey.

After they had kissed he had felt so sure and then that feeling of certainty had been replaced with a sour feeling of disappointment. He had seen Mandy, Lip, Fiona and Jimmy get their tattoos and in a way he felt he had missed his window of opportunity.

The fact that he actually missed Mickey was a bit worrisome considering that they had barely spent more than an hour in each other’s presence. In fact, they barely knew each other, say for a few neighborhood cookouts and by reputation. That was also why he found it so peculiar that he felt an urge to find out more, what he knew about Mickey was far from good but he still felt the need to find out more.

He had so many questions and the lack of answers was starting to get to him. Maybe Mickey wasn’t his soul mate? He wondered if something was wrong with him, maybe Mickey just disliked him so much that he somehow had managed to fuck with destiny or what-ever-the-fuck it was deciding who would end up together. He would have talked to Mandy about it but he still hadn’t told her and he only had two people in his life he shared stuff like this with and that only left Lip who had repeatedly told Ian to shut up about it already.

“Why don’t you think he wants me?” Ian asked. Lip shoved off the kitchen wall and picked out his toast from the toaster.

“Hm?”

“Mickey.” Ian answered. Lip gave him a calculated look before he smirked as he sat down at the kitchen table opposite of Ian.

“Maybe it’s because you don’t have a soul.” Lip quipped.

“What?” Ian’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Haven’t you heard? Gingers don’t have souls, man.” Lip said, an amused grin spreading on his face.

Ian rolled his eyes so hard his brain hurt. “That's massivly helpful, thanks.” Ian said and kicked Lip’s shin under the table.

Lip tapped his fingers on the table and thought for a while.

“Fuck if I know. Maybe destiny or whatever isn’t quite sealed in yet? I mean, you know I don’t believe in fate and that bullshit about things happening for a reason, but what if it’s just not a done deal yet? What if you have to wait for it?…it’s supposed to be inevitable right? So what if you just have to…let things happen on their own?” Lip said with a shrug and stole the left over pieces of toast off Ian’s plate.

Ian mulled it over for a while. He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Mickey was his soul mate, wouldn’t his wrist have changed by now if he was? It seemed logical in his head but it didn’t explain the dropping feeling he got in his stomach every time he thought of accepting it and moving on. He had been going over it in his head for days and he felt like he was going to loose it if he didn’t do anything soon.

“Maybe it’s on the fence?” Ian said to himself.

“What?” Lip asked around a mouthful of toast.

“What if we have to make it happen ourselves? What if it’s our choice?” Ian answered.

“Well that would be a first…and it’s highly fucking unlikely,” Lip said tiredly. “And would you stop with the moping already, it’s fucking depressing.”

“Mandy here?” Ian asked but before Lip had the chance to respond another voice sounded. “Yes, Mandy is.” Mandy answered as she walked down the last steps of the stairs, both Ian and Lip’s head turned her way at the sound of her voice. Neither of them was sure how much of their conversation she had overheard but the lack of interest she showed proved that she hadn't caught too much of their conversation.

“Why are you mopey? Something wrong?” she asked and poured cereal in a bowl.

Ian felt bad he still hadn’t told her, but how was he supposed to tell her that her brother might be her soul mate, it wasn’t like he could just casually slip something like that into a conversation. And he wasn’t sure anyways, it would just seem weird to talk about it if it hadn’t actually happened, but then again…it kind of…halfway had.

Mandy was his friend and Ian felt like he should tell her but he was also wondering if Mickey would mind if he told her. It wasn’t fully his secret to tell, only partially, but then again he didn’t have to tell her every detail, he could easily leave out Mickey’s name. He realized he had thought for too long when Lip was about to answer for him.

“His all mopey because his-” Lip stopped immediately when Ian kicked his shin under the table.

“I’m not mopey, Lip is just being a dick.” Ian replied and shot Lip a warning glance telling him to keep his mouth shut.

“Yeah _right,_ that's why.” Lip said and rolled his eyes.

“Hey Mands, can I talk to you for a sec?” Ian asked.“ _Alone._ ” He said and shot Lip a look, for someone so smart, Lip could be really fucking dense sometimes. Lip rolled his eyes but got up and walked upstairs without another word.

“Have you ever felt like the whole soul mate thing is bullshit?”

“I’m together with Lip…I would say I question it about five times a day.” Mandy replied, lip quirking into an amused smile.

“Why are you asking?” She asked and chewed through a spoonful of cereal. Ian wasn’t sure how to phrase it, he thought for a while before he decided to say it straight forward.

“You know the other day? When my timer was really low?” He asked without expecting an answer but Mandy nodded to urge him on.

“Well, when I said that it didn’t happen, it wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t a lie either.” Mandy opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about but he continued his rambling explanation.

“I met him, I think. I felt it happen and then I looked down on my wrist and nothing was there, but he had my first initial, which was a start. Then we were talking and I kissed him and another letter appeared, but that was it and I my wrist still haven’t changed right? And then he basically told me to fuck off, so now I’m not so sure anymore. What if he's my soul mate but there's something wrong with me? I felt sure but know I really don't know anymore.”

“Huh” She said after a little while.“I’ve never heard of that happening before.” She said unaware of the growing suspicion in the back of her mind. “Maybe you’re not right for each other? Wouldn’t explain the tattoos though.”

“Maybe.” Ian replied but he didn't feel like it was the right answer.

“What’s his name?” She asked and Ian squirmed at her gaze. He weighed his options in his mind, either tell her everything and possibly overstep some boundaries or keep it to himself until he knew for sure.

“I can’t tell you yet.” Ian answered.

“You said two of your initials right had appeared right, and one was missing?” She said and Ian shrugged a shoulder.

“I didn’t know you had a middle name.” she said suspiciously.

“Yeah, I mean it’s not like I ever use it, it’s just a reminder that Monica cheated on Frank with his brother and that I am the outcome. It's not like it's a nice reminder or anything.”

“Right, what was his name again? Clayton?” She asked and Ian nodded.

Mandy was eating the last spoonful of cereal when it finally hit her. She felt so stupid for not seeing it before now. Ian had been weird towards her for a week; Mickey had been weird towards her for a week and that in itself didn't mean _that_ much, but Mickey had also ignored her completely whenever she asked about his tattoo, the tattoo that was missing a date just like Ian had said, not only that but the Mickey’s tattoo was of Ian’s first two initials. _Ian. Clayton._ Gallagher.

“That asshole didn’t tell me.” She said under her breath.

“What?” Ian asked and Mandy looked up at him.

“It’s Mickey isn’t it?” She said incredulously. The look of guilt on his face mixed with a bit of discomfort was all the proof she needed.

“I can’t believe you waited until now to tell me, you asshole. It's been over a week!” She said and leaned of the table to his punch his arm. Mandy sat back with a smile that made Ian feel relieved at once, his nerves and worries from earlier subsided a little. "I might need a minute to get used to this though."

He was about to ask her if she wanted to tag along to the club later that evening when he was interrupted by a shout.

“Mandy! Are you coming or not?” Lip yelled from upstairs. "MANDY."

“Yes! Hold your fucking horses.” Mandy yelled as she got up from the table and put her empty bowl in the sink. She walked over and gave Ian a brief hug followed by a smile before she took his head in her hand and studied his face for a few seconds.

“What are you doing?” He asked confusedly, she smiled as if she had a secret joke and started cracking up.

“Just wanted to take one last look at your face before my asshole brother bashes it in. I’ll miss your pretty face, Ian.” She said and grinned down at him. Ian hadn’t noticed but Mickey and Mandy had the same smile until now, the two of them almost looked relieved whenever they smiled, carefree.

He must have looked really fucking nervous because her face softened and she gave him a warm smile this time. “No worries, I was kidding,” She said and carded her fingers through his hair to mess it up, solely because she knew how much it annoyed him.

She made her way to the staircase and stopped on the first step. “Mostly.” She stage whispered and snickered before disappearing around the bend of the stairs.

It didn’t really make sense but somehow he felt more relaxed after talking to Mandy. He didn’t give it any thought, just decided he wasn’t going to think about his potential soul mate anymore, if it was going to happen it would happen on it’s own. His thoughts were interrupted as the front door swung open and Fiona and Jimmy entered carrying a few boxes of pizza and a couple of stuffed paper bags in their hands.

“Hey kiddo, could you go get some plates and glasses?” She asked as she passed by Ian at the table.

She didn’t give him the chance to answer before she yelled out. “FOOD!” as she walked through the kitchen and into the living room.

“MOVIE, PIZZA, KIDS!” She yelled louder and as expected the sound of footsteps followed down the stairs.

The Gallagher’s had outgrown the living room years ago but somehow they all fit if they squeezed together tight enough. Ian had luckily scored a chair for himself and was able to stretch out completely - without having any elbows or knees uncomfortably poking his ribs-which Carl eyed him for jealously from his own seat on the floor. Fiona set the pizzas down on the table along with a few beers while Jimmy pulled out the DVD. He discarded case on the table while he fiddled with their shitty DVD player to get the movie going.

Lip picked up the case and studied the cover with a frown.

“Jarhead?” Mandy read the title as she sat down on the couch armrest.

In the corner of his eye Ian could see Mandy giving him an uneasy look. Jarhead…even if he hadn’t heard about the movie before the title was pretty self-explanatory. It had been about seven months since Ian had found out he had inherited a few more genes from Monica than he would have liked to, since finding out about it months of shit had followed. After that, he found out that because of his disorder he couldn't join the army. He didn’t feel like watching the movie at all, but much less than actually watching the movie, he felt like explaining why he didn’t, so he slapped on a smile that hopefully looked genuine and shrugged a shoulder at Mandy’s worried look.

Luckily the rest of the Gallagher’s were oblivious to Ian’s lack of enthusiasm and awkward avoidance. Mandy on the other hand was still a bit suspicious but let it slide when Ian gave her another quick smile when the movie began. Ian’s phone managed to keep him distracted through most of the movie but halfway through he had grown tired of pretending his screensaver was anything but excruciatingly tedious. He managed to sneak up stairs without any fuss, pack his bag and make it downstairs and to the front door until someone even noticed he was gone.

“Where are you going?” Fiona asked. She was standing by the fridge, a couple of beers in each hand.

“I gotta get to work.”

Fiona glanced to the clock on the stove. “It’s only eight thirty? You don’t have to be at the club for at least another an hour and thirty minutes”

“I just thought I’d head out early, work a couple of hours more for extra cash.” That was a lie, the club wasn’t even open this early, he just wanted to get out of the house to clear his head. Fiona furrowed her eyebrows and gave him a scrutinizing look.

“Something wrong? You feeling okay?” She asked, her tone laced with worry. Fiona had felt guilty ever since they found out about Ian’s disorder. She realized that she should have done something the minute she had started to notice Ian’s weird behavior; she wasn’t sure if she had fooled herself into believing he was okay or if she was just too caught up in her own mess to realize he wasn’t when she should have. That was why she insisted on watching over him more carefully now, even if his eighteenth birthday was a few months away and he would technically be an adult he would still be her little brother and she was going to make sure that he was okay.

“No. I’m fine, just wanted to get some fresh air.” Ian answered truthfully.

“Okay, let me know if something is wrong, though.” She wanted to say more, wanted to make sure that he actually was okay but her worries went unsaid. She didn’t want to pressure him more than necessary and she trusted him enough to let him come to her if something was on his mind.

“Sure, Fi.” Ian said and was half way through the door when he heard Fiona shout.

“And you should really quit that job, it creeps me the fuck out.”

Ian chuckled and closed the door behind him. He was accustomed to the cold Chicago winter but even he had his limits and standing still outside in the snow wasn’t exactly tempting. He started walking, keeping his pace slow in an attempt to make time pass. He hopped on the L and tried to warm his fingers a little. He fought the urge to flip off a kid that looked about thirteen years old that kept staring at him and hopped off a station too early to walk a little. It was five minutes to ten when he made it to the club, so he lit up a cigarette and waited for Johnny to come open it. Luckily Johnny arrived two minutes later with the keys dangling in his hand.

“Hey Ian. You working the bar tonight, right? I forgot my schedule and I have no fucking clue who’s doing what tonight. This whole thing is a mess after Will quit, I almost forgot I was on duty tonight.” Johnny said as he fidgeted with the lock.

“Uh, yeah. I am. I know that Tony will be working behind the bar with me and that Mike is stepping in for me tonight, but that’s about it.” It had taken a shitload of convincing but Ian had finally been able to switch to bartending from time to time. He still danced though, just not as frequently as before. When he was self-medicating with random drugs and alcohol he didn’t even have to think about it but doing the job completely sober was a whole other thing and turned out to be harder than he thought it would be.

“Okay, thanks. Get ready soon yeah? Got a bachelor party at eleven, it’ll probably be a busy night.” Johnny finally managed to unlock the door and swung it open with a kick.

Ian walked through the club and entered the changing room. He pulled off his jacket and picked up his usual work shirt. Pulling the V-neck tee shirt over his head, he wondered if he could get away with wearing the grey long sleeved Henley in his bag instead. The tee shirt would leave his wrists out in the open and he wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable with that. He had learned through being a bartender that drunk people had a poor grasp on what was their business and what wasn’t, he had received some weird intimate questions on more than one occasion. Fuck it, his boss would probably not notice anyways. He pulled on the henley and exited the changing room.

The start of the evening flew by pretty quick. Ian made drinks, served, flirted, made some extra cash. It was a pretty mindless job, which was why he liked it so much. He could just shut off his brain, and do the same thing over and over again without having to think.

That was until he found himself without customers and thoughts started seeping into his mind again. He still felt frustrated and pathetically helpless. He was actually started to feel frustrated because he was frustrated, and it felt fucking ridiculous. A voice brought Ian out of his mindless and slightly pathetic self-pity fest.

“Hey”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last thing, I don't know anything about the layout of Chicago, so descriptions aren't to detailed and maybe not correct at all times.
> 
> And thanks for being so patient, I'm like a fucking slow turtle when it comes to my writing.


	5. What comes easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yey, I finally reached 10 000 words. Longest fic I've ever written!

Ian didn’t recognize the voice at first. He looked up to the sight of flushed cheeks and a pair of brown eyes. It was Jake, with a bright smile on his face.

Ian felt relieved somehow. Cause Jake was always easy. Easy to talk to, easy to understand, easy to be with, just…easy. When they first had started hooking up Ian actually thought that Jake could be his soul mate, he quickly dismissed that thought though. Not only had the opportunity for something to happen presented itself repeatedly but he also felt like there was something missing between them. He had realized later that the feeling of need - that pull he had felt with Mickey - wasn’t there at all with Jake; he was just attracted to him. With great reason though, Jake - even objectively speaking - was good looking.

Ian realized he had zoned out for too long when Jake’s smile turned a little uncertain and his brows furrowed a bit.

“Hey, Jake.” 

Jake smiled and sat down at the bar, a relieved look on his face. “Double Jack.” he placed his empty glass on the bar top.

“Ice, right?” Ian asked.

“Don’t you know me at all? I’m offended,” Jake said with mock offense, clutching his chest.

“Ice it is then, asshole.” Ian said and rolled his eyes. “Long time no see, huh?” Ian scooped some ice in the glass.

“Yeah, it’s been a while hasn’t it? How’ve you been?” Jake asked, drumming his fingers on the bar top.

Ian didn’t know how to answer that. He had been awful; between finding out about his bipolar disorder and having his dreams crushed he had definitely been better. But he and Jake never talked about stuff like that so he shrugged a shoulder instead. “Been good, how about you?”

“I’ve been great actually. Y'know, same old. College is a bitch, has its perks though.”  

Ian nodded and poured Jake's drink. “Are you here with friends or the bachelor party?”

“Both I guess, Danny and Nate are tying the knot. It’s fucking crazy man, I don’t think I’ll ever get married and they’re having the wedding next week. I mean soul mates and all, but who the fuck gets married at twenty-one? That's just crazy.”

Ian’s eyes naturally fell to his wrist again, just a quick reflexive glance to check if it was still the same. He had grown to fucking hate how automatically he did it, it felt just as shitty each damn time. It was like a reflex he couldn’t control; kind of the way anyone would instinctively withdraw a hand from something burning. The thought of his tattoo would cross his mind and the anticipation would grow in his chest only to be replaced by a dropping feeling every time he looked down to find it empty. The henley covered his wrist and he itched to pull it down, he tamped the urge down though. His eyes slid of his wrist and he looked back up at Jake. He had his eyebrows raised at Ian, a questioning look on his face.

“Yeah, big step…” Ian replied distantly and placed the drink on the bar top. Jake picked up the drink and slid of the stool. He turned to leave but changed his mind last minute.

“You wanna, uh, hang out later?” Jake asked. Ian knew what that meant; he had never hung out with Jake without it leading to other things. He was actually pretty sure he hadn’t even seen Jake once without it ending up a bed, a metaphoric bed that was, usually it was just a quick fuck up against the wall or wherever else they found themselves at the time.

“Sure,” The word slipped out of his mouth before he had thought it through. It was far from a calculated decision, if it had been, Ian would probably have said no. But in his defense, he was annoyed and a little frustrated, and what better way to let some frustration go than fucking it out?

“Good, see you later.” Jake replied with a smile and disappeared into the crowd again. Ian wondered if it was a bad decision. He felt like it was, but wasn’t able to put his finger on why. Mickey had made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with him, so why the fuck did he feel like he was doing the wrong thing? He rolled his eyes at himself and hoped the evening would pass quickly. 

∞ 

Ian had lost all his concentration about half an hour later. He watched as Jake danced effortlessly to the beat, his hips swaying and with this dazed smile on his face. He turned his head a little to talk to a guy that Ian recognized as Danny and noticed Ian’s blatant staring from the bar. His smile turned into a smirk and Ian saw Jake saying something to Danny before gesturing for Ian to follow him.

“Hey Tony, can you cover for me for like, fifteen minutes tops?” Tony stopped shaking the cocktail shaker in his hands.

“Sure” he answered and resumed shaking again. Ian saw Jake disappear through the crowd heading towards the bathroom. Ian followed and reached Jake just a few feet from the door. He reached for Jake’s waist, pulling him closer to his chest as they stumbled into a booth. Ian shut everything out except the way Jake was looking at him, open and easy to read. He moved forward, his hand reaching up to Jake’s neck, their lips meeting in the middle.

Ian had found that the one positive thing about his meds was the numbness that came with the little pills. It made it easier to let things go, made it easier to shut his thoughts out, made it so damn easy to focus on the way Jake moved his lips against his own, how he could hear the rush of his pulse in his ears and nothing else. They moved easily together, almost mechanically.

“How much have you had to drink?” Ian asked, tasting the alcohol on Jake’s tongue. Jake answered with a one-shouldered shrug and dropped his head to Ian’s neck and collarbone, biting and sucking at the skin above his jugular, marking his skin a bit more possessively than Ian would have like him to. Jake tugged at Ian’s shirt, his movements fumbly and uncoordinated as he pressed him up against the wall. Ian needed it to go faster, needed the movements to be quicker to cloud his mind more. Jake seemed to pick up on that cause his hands brushed down Ian’s chest and tugged at his belt buckle.

They resumed to kissing and Jake palmed Ian through his jeans. He dropped to his knees, smirking as he unbuckled Ian’s belt, sliding his jeans off with just enough space to free his cock. He wrapped a hand around Ian, jerked him off with quick movements before he started tonguing at the head of Ian’s cock. Ian’s head fell back on the wall of the stall; a breathy moan escaped his lips as Jake started to swallow him down. Jake started bobbing his head, taking in more of Ian until he could feel him at the back of his throat. He unzipped his own jeans and started to jerk himself off. Ian moaned and tangled his hand into Jake’s hair, tugging at it encouragingly. Jake pulled off, holding him steady at the base while focusing on the head of Ian’s cock, swirling his tongue around the crown. 

The closer Ian got to the edge, the more of the world around him fell away, the only thing he managed to focus on was the blissful feeling of his approaching orgasm. Jake moaned loudly around him another time and Ian tightened his grip in Jake’s hair, the only warning he gave him before he came down his throat. Ian’s head went blissfully quiet for a few seconds, relieving him of every single thought. He tucked himself back in and zipped his jeans as Jake stood up.

He was still hard, pressing against Ian’s hip as he stepped closer. Ian reached between them and jerked him off in quick, sloppy movements. He had lost all ability to concentrate but luckily enough it didn’t take much before Jake came with a muffled groan against Ian’s shoulder.

Ian felt awkward for some reason. Why was it so damn awkward? It struck him that this was the first time he had hooked up with Jake sober and that it somehow felt very different. He wondered if he felt different because of Mickey or if it felt like this because he was completely clearheaded. He realized it might have had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t focused on Jake at all; maybe it was the fact that he had wanted Jake to be someone else.

“Guess, I’ll see you later.” Jake said and smiled, completely oblivious to the awkwardness Ian felt.

“Yeah,” He answered and exited the bathroom. 

 

∞ 

 

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bacey.” Lip’s voice rang out into the room and woke Ian up. “Or well, not really. We made pancakes,” Lip drummed his fingers on the door. “and by saying _we_ , I mean _Debbie_ made pancakes.” Ian sat up in the bed and reached for a plaid shirt on the floor.

“Ohhh” Lip said tauntingly. “I see you finally got to… _talk_ to Mickey?” He leaned in the doorway.

“What?” Ian pulled the shirt over his head. Lip pointed vaguely to his neck with his hand. He was referring to the marks on Ian’s neck. Fucking Jake. Ian wondered if there was a polite way to crawl back under the covers and never emerge.

“Uh. Not Mickey.” Ian answered and Lip raised his brows in question. “Jake,” Ian added as he reached for his pants at the end of the bed.

“Right…the dumb one?”

“He’s not dumb, he’s just…simple minded.” Ian replied and pulled on his pants.

“Aren’t those practically the same?”

“I don’t know, do I look like a dictionary to you?”

" _Jesus_ , touchy..." Lip muttered, leaning into the doorway. “But why Jake? Doesn’t that seem very contradictory to what you said last night?” Lip asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The whole thing about making the soul mate thing happen on your own. About it being a choice? I don’t know, I was barely listening to what you were saying so I might have heard that wrong. Sleeping with someone else just makes it seem like you’re moving in the opposite direction of what your goal is.”

“Jake’s just easy, and everything about Mickey is…complicated.”

“What comes easy won’t last and what lasts, won’t come easy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Go figure it out idiot. And by the way, Mandy says to check your phone.” Lip answered and closed the door behind him.

Ian reached for his phone on the nightstand.

 

 **_Mandy_ ** **_10.22 am_ **

_Wanna come over on tomorrow for pizza & movie?_

 

He texted her back a few seconds later.

 

**_Ian 11.03 am_ **

_Sure_

∞ 

Mickey had been brooding for days and Mandy was sick of it. The frown on Mickey’s face had turned fucking permanent and she wished he would just talk to her. Mandy knew he wouldn’t though; Mickey wasn’t particularly talkative and neither was she for that matter. They had never had the privilege of discussing their problems over tea and fucking biscuits and she could hardly see that changing in the future. Something desperately needed to be done with his mood though; which was why she had bribed him with a few joints she had knicked from Lip.

 

Mandy made a grabby hand for the joint between Mickey’s fingers until he handed it over. She took a drag and put her feet up in Mickey’s lap in hope that he wouldn’t shove them down for the third time tonight.

“Does it smell like pizza in here or is that just me?” Mickey asked.

“It’s not just you, I’m making pizza you moron,” Mandy answered.

“Does making pizza mean making it or is it a frozen piece of cardboard with cheese and tomato sauce on top?”

“It means I actually made it,” She replied.

Mandy had originally planned on keeping her mouth shut about Ian. Which in theory had been a simple task but weed made her chatty and her traitorous mouth opened before she could stop herself.

“I know who IC is…” A shirt covered up Mickey’s wrist but he instinctively placed it over the arm of the couch, out of Mandy’s line of sight. The movement seemed almost timid and careless at the same time. She had expected Mickey to react with a _“What the fuck are you talking about?”_ or _“That’s none of your business, bitch”_. But he didn’t. Instead he reached for the joint and inhaled, dragging thick smoke deep into his lungs. That was kind of worse, an angry Mickey was at least easy to deal with. 

“Good for you.” He replied and blew rings of smoke into the air.

Mandy looked at him with one eyebrow raised."You know it's going to happen to him too right? Your soul ma-" 

"Is he though? because it looks to me like he isn't." Mickey replied, the picture of Ian's empty wrist on his mind. 

“Y’know, he thinks there’s something wrong with him.”

“Well fuck, maybe there _is_ something wrong with him” Mickey replied nonchalantly.

“If there’s something wrong with him because of his tattoo, doesn’t that mean there’s something wrong with you too? The missing letter and the date is-“

“I’m not fucking talking about this with you.” Mickey shoved Mandy’s feet from his lap only to have her place them in his lap again.

“Then talk to him about it then.” Mandy didn’t mean to meddle but the two of them sitting around on their butts and being stubborn, mopey, fuckers was just pathetic. At least they could be mopey fuckers together, or maybe not mopey at fucking all.

“Not everyone gets to just blurt out how they fucking feel every minute.” Mickey snapped.

Mandy opened her mouth to respond but a knock on the front door interrupted her.

“Ian’s here, so you better scamper off into your cave of doom and gloom again.” Mandy muttered and got up from the couch.

“Fuck off,” Mickey replied and ignored the little flutter he felt when he heard Ian’s name. He scrambled off the couch and made his way to the kitchen to check on the pizza. He could hear Mandy and Ian talking loudly in the hallway. Mickey glared at the pizza as if he could will it to cook faster, it wasn’t much of a distraction and he couldn’t help but to listen to the low mutter of Ian’s voice.

He could hear Mandy’s talking as she moved through the house.

“I’m just gonna go change, I’ll be back in five minutes so just pick whatever movie you wanna see. Would you go get the coke out of the fridge? And some glasses too.”

 _Shit_ , Ian was coming to the kitchen, where Mickey was currently standing – doing fuck all and staring at a pizza like a fucking idiot. He could either hurry up, get the fuck out of there or he could ignore Ian and pretend like he didn’t exist. He didn’t have time to make up his mind; Ian had already stepped into the kitchen. There was an awkward moment when Ian spotted Mickey leaned up against the kitchen counter and their eyes met.

 

Ian wanted to walk away at first, but Mickey looked so caught of guard and the look on his face was kind of endearing. He thought about ignoring Mickey’s presence completely but he quickly dismissed that thought, Ian was a lot of things but he was definitely not a coward. Plus, that feeling, that fucking pull was tugging at his chest again. He ignored the jittery feeling in his stomach and walked straight to the fridge to pull out the coke.

Ian turned around, coke in hand and was kind of uncertain what to do next. The top of Mickey’s right shoulder was blocking the cabinets that held the glasses. Mickey’s face was hard to read, it was almost imperceptible but Ian saw Mickey’s lip twitch, as if he was deliberately trying to keep his face straight.

Ian stepped closer to Mickey and reached for two glasses. Instead of walking back into the living room he placed the glasses on the kitchen counter along with the coke. It suddenly struck him how they close they were. He could simply reach out and place his hand on Mickey’s neck to pull him closer. He could lean forward if he wanted to, lean forward and press his lips against Mickeys. And, _fuck_ he wanted to. He was suddenly aware that his whole body felt too warm, that the blood was rushing too quick in his veins, that it became a little harder to breathe. How the air seemed thick. Energized.

Mickey looked up at Ian, a curious look on his face. His eyes trailed down Ian’s neck before stopping at his collarbone. There was a slightly faded mark just barely peaking out of his shirt, a fucking hickey. Mickey didn’t understand it at first, it was a conflicted emotion - much because he had no right to feel the way he did. But then he realized…he was jealous. Really jealous actually, without any right to be.

When Mickey looked back up, Ian had a smile on his face – as if he could read Mickey's thoughts. Mickey licked his lips unconsciously and Ian didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was blatantly staring as he did so. Ian felt that pull again, deep in his chest, pulling him closer. He was so sick of the want, the want that has been pulling at him for days, that pull he needed to give in to.

 _Fuck_ uncomplicated, _fuck_ easy, this was what he wanted. He wanted it to be complicated; he wanted it to be fucking hard. Mickey swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Ian’s hand moved on it’s own accord and was halfway through the air – reaching for Mickey’s jaw - when a loud shout broke the silence of the kitchen.

“Ian! Are you coming or not?” Mandy shouted from her room.

 _Fuck._ He let his hand fall and recognized the unmistakable look on disappointment on Mickey’s face. It was all the proof he needed, Mickey wanted to kiss him just as much as Ian wanted to kiss Mickey. He glanced at Mickey’s lips again, lingering a couple seconds longer than necessary.He felt that pull again,  _jesus,_  Mickey's lips might be the death of him.

Ian didn't think twice about it, he lunged forward and crashed his lips against Mickey's. It was a rougher kiss than last time, tongues and bites and so much want. Mickey's hand settled on Ian's jaw, holding him closer. It made Ian feel lightheaded and intoxicated. He brought his hand up to Mickey's neck and he could feel his pulse thrumming beneath his fingers. In some ways it felt like the first time they had kissed, just as ethereal and divine. But at the same time it was so much more than that, it was...vibrant and made Ian's heart beat so hard he thought Mickey might actually hear it. When he finally pulled back, Mickey's cheeks were a little flushed, his lips wet and a little swollen. It took about every ounce of self control in Ian's body not to kiss him again.  

Instead, he picked up the glasses and the coke and smiled in a way that made Mickey even more breathless than before and exited the kitchen. That pull, that need, that fucking urge _had_ to mean something and Ian was going to figure out what exactly, soul mate or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you like it so far, I’m really not sure about this chapter and it would be helpful with some constructive criticism, because I have no idea where the hell this is going. I hope this wasn’t bad? Hope it was acceptable at least. This is my first time writing anything sexual so excuse the awkwardness of it. I cringed my way through it.


	6. I don't fucking know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've mentioned before, english is not my native language, so please let me know if there's any grammar mistakes in my writing. 
> 
> Also, my actual first time writing a full on sex scene, so go easy on me. I'm going to practice and hopefully I'll get better, just bear with me!

Mickey had spent many years of his life building walls to protect himself. It wasn’t something he started doing deliberately but - with the parents he had, growing up where he did – it became a necessity, in the way carrying brass knuckles and knowing how to use them was necessary or they way knowing how to deflect a punch was. Over the years though, he started doing it intentionally, it was easier that way and in the end it wasn’t a choice anymore. Keeping things locked up and other things locked out was his way of coping; it became second nature to him.

Those walls had become his armor and no one had been able to make those walls tumble down. That’s why – when Ian leaned down and kissed him – Mickey was suddenly scared shitless, cause he was very aware that those walls could start to crack. Ian felt too close, like he was beneath Mickey’s skin, but at the same time, too far away. Mickey brought his hand up to Ian’s jaw and pulled him closer, enjoying the feeling of Ian’s warm skin beneath his fingers.

Ian eventually pulled back and grinned down at Mickey, somehow managing to look cocky and bashful at the same time. He didn’t say anything, which Mickey found a little odd cause the last time they were together Ian wasn’t capable of shutting up for more than ten seconds at the time. Instead, Ian grabbed the coke and the glasses and left with a cocky grin on his face. _Smug_ fucker.

Mickey took a few minutes to collect himself. It felt a lot like his insides were spread open, like a book with all the pages ripped out for anyone to see. Kind of like the feeling you get when you’re in the middle of a field and there’s nothing surrounding you and everything is bare and out in the open. Weirdly enough it felt good, really good, like a mix of relief and intoxication. Mickey’s mind was muddled, probably the weed, or maybe it was just Ian, he didn’t know. He licked his lips and realized they actually felt cold with the absence of Ian’s. Shit. He let his head fall against the kitchen cabinet and closed his eyes.

 _Fuck_ , he was so screwed.

 ∞ 

Mandy was splayed out on the floor when Ian entered her bedroom.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Mandy answered absentmindedly as she flipped through some of the many movies on the floor.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve seen all of these movies at least a hundred times, but whatever, just pick one.” Mandy said as Ian sat down next to her on the floor.

A few of them had normal covers; the rest of them had blank cases with scribbling in the front. Ian reached for the closest one and flipped the case over to get a look at the cover.

“I can’t even read what this one says,” He muttered as he tried to make sense of the black scribbles on the case.

“Yeah I know. Mickey still writes like he’s six years old.” She said and grabbed the DVD from Ian’s hands.

Mickey’s writing. He looked at the other spread out cases. Mickey’s writing was much like he thought it would be like. Messy and a bit sloppy, he wondered for a second how it would look on his skin, If it ever would.

“This one is old so it’s hard to see but I’m pretty sure it says Batman Begins,” Mandy said and brought Ian’s attention back to the collection of DVDs.

“Batman Begins begins it is.” Ian replied. Mandy nodded and stood up from the ground.

“What’s up with your face by the way?” She offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet.

“What do you mean ‘ _What’s up with my face_ ’?” Ian asked as he followed Mandy to the living room.

“You’re all –” Mandy trailed off and vaguely wiggled her fingers in the air towards him. “Weird” was the word she finally ended on as she squinted at him a little.

“Weird?” Ian repeated.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re face is going to crack in two if you keep smiling that wide.”

“Wanna know how I got these scars?” Ian asked in a pathetic impression of the Joker.

Mandy rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “You’re such a fucking _dork_ , I don’t even know why I’m friends with you” She said as she fiddled with the Xbox.

“Probably my amazing looks and charming personality.” Ian answered sarcastically and spread out on the couch.

“If you having friends depended on those two qualities you wouldn’t have any friends at all” Mandy replied and plopped down on the couch next to Ian.

“Asshole”

“Well, that’s like one of your favorite things so I take it as a compliment.” She said and reached down to pick up a threadbare blanket from the floor.

“But seriously. You’ve been all mopey and shit and now you’re all cheery and flowery?” She asked but Ian just shrugged a shoulder. “Does it have anything to do with _that_?” she asked and pointed to the mark on his neck.

“Not even a little bit. Far from it actually. Two different things entirely.” Ian replied smiling as Mandy spread the blanket out over them.

Mandy frowned before turning her attention back to the opening credits.

“Yeah I got no clue,” She said and snuggled up closer to Ian’s side “But by all means, don’t tell me anything you secretive little shit.” she muttered and nudged Ian’s ribs when he laughed at her.

 

Ian went to sleep easily that night. It wasn’t much, but at least he felt like he had established some common ground between him and Mickey. It felt good to finally have something to feel confident about, even if there was a lot that was still left unresolved. 

∞  

One of the perks of Lip leaving for college was the empty bedroom he left behind. Ian had claimed the room about five seconds after Lip had made it out the door. Carl had put up a decent fight but he was a sucker for Ian’s old army stuff and Ian quickly bribed him with the remains of his military gear. Sadly though, having your own room in the Gallagher house did not equal privacy, which Ian was very much aware of when Fiona swung his door open at nine a.m. that Saturday morning.

“Come on, Saturday run!” She exclaimed excitedly.

Running was one of Fiona’s favorite things to do, the feel of the ground beneath her feet, the rush of wind in her hair. The amazing stream of energy she felt afterwards despite the fact that she had pushed herself as hard as she possibly could. It had always been something she loved to do but she hardly got the opportunity to do such trivial things, other stuff like work or the kids always got in the way. That was until she read that exercise might help lighten some of Ian’s symptoms and they had agreed to go running together every Sunday.

“Come on. It’s freezing outside today so make sure to wear something thick.” She reached for the nearest item of clothing on the floor and tossed it at Ian’s head.

“Come on, sun is shining.” She said. Ian turned over in bed to find her standing in the doorway with a smile on her face.

Ian stretched his arms, “Give me two minutes and I’ll be good to go.”

“Great” She said and closed the door behind her. Ian got dressed quickly, swallowed down his meds with a sip of water and then he and Fiona were out in the cold. Fiona had been right when she said it was freezing but Ian longed to feel the rush of blood beneath his skin so the two of them started running.

They ran in silence, enjoying the quiet and the calm morning. It was a nice start of the day, the sky was without a single cloud and the sun was warming their skin despite the temperature. A few blocks from home Fiona slowed her pace to a fast walk and called for Ian to slow down. “You tired already?” Ian asked and slowed down to match her pace.

“Nah, I just wanted to talk a little.” she answered breathlessly.

“What’s up?”

“I was just curious of how you were doing, your mood has been kind of off lately and I was just wondering if we needed to adjust your meds.”

“I’m good,” Ian answered but Fiona didn’t look convinced. “I’m good. Just, you know…” he shrugged a shoulder and Fiona stopped walking all together.

“I promise I'm fine.” Ian repeated decisively. Fiona bit her lip and thought for a few seconds.

“Okay. You know I trust you to handle your own stuff, but if this has anything to do with a stolen car again or any other illegal stuff you _will_ end up on my shit list.” Fiona’s tone was humorous, but there was a bit of genuine worry in her voice.

“No worries Fi,” He replied and smiled. “I’ll race you to the house.” Ian grinned and ran off just in time to see Fiona match his smile before she sprinted after him.  

∞ 

It took Ian the whole day and most of the evening before decided on what to do next; he was going to chance it. He pulled on his shoes and his jacket and stepped out in the snow. He walked quickly, his feet carrying him determinedly towards Mickey’s house. As he knocked on the front door he tried to gather some last minute courage cause he just realized he had no clue what to say. The door swung open a bit forcefully and Mickey stood in front of him, a surprised look on his face.

“Hey,” Ian said, his voice a little breathless.

Mickey didn’t say anything at once, just looked around a little awkwardly.

“Mandy’s not here.” he said finally.

“Yeah, I know. Why do you always think I’m here for Mandy?”

Mickey just gave half a shrug and raised his brows at Ian expectantly.

“I’m not here for her.” Ian said to clarify. Mickey brows furrowed a little at that.

“Then why the fuck are you here?” he asked. Ian didn’t answer. Just looked at Mickey with that ridiculous smile. Like he knew exactly what Mickey was thinking by just looking at him. Like he had some secret that only he knew about.

It made Mickey feel too warm, the way Ian looked at him. He wanted to look away but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off Ian. That pull, that insistent pull tugged at him again and he felt so amazingly drawn to Ian. It felt like every part of him, every damn atom in his body was pulling him towards Ian. Ian must have felt it too, cause he was grinning and had this knowing look on his face. Neither of them had moved, Mickey was still standing in the middle of the hallway with his hand on the doorknob, completely still although his whole body screamed at him to fucking move already.

Ian moved first, he took a step closer, then another one. There was barely any space between them now, hardly more than a few inches. The air was tense and energetic between them and Mickey suddenly found it hard to breathe. Ian smiled again before he leaned down and pressed his lips against Mickey’s. It was just an easy touch, lasting only a few seconds but it left them both a little breathless. Ian leaned back a little and raised a hand to Mickey’s neck. He felt his pulse beneath his fingers, warm and alive. He wanted to make it go faster.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Mickey’s again, slower this time as he sucked Mickey’s lower lip into his mouth and let his hands fall to Mickey’s sides. He trailed his tongue along Mickey’s bottom lip and let his hands wander down to grab Mickey’s ass. He felt Mickey smile against his lips as he leaned into Ian’s hips. Mickey could feel Ian everywhere, on his lips, his hands on his ass, his chest, he was pretty sure he could feel Ian in his fucking blood.

In an unspoken agreement they started walking further into the house. Mickey tugged at Ian’s jacket until it fell on the floor along the way. They stumbled across the floor until the back of Mickey’s legs hit the edge of his bed and they fell on top of the mattress. Breaking apart long enough to pull their shirts over their heads, both of them thrown unceremoniously on the floor before Ian pushed Mickey down on his back and got between his legs. It wasn’t a position Mickey was very eager about but Ian was grinding down on him. Mickey’s focus was long gone.

Ian’s lips dropped down to Mickey’s neck and trailed a few kisses down to his collarbone. He nipped gently at Mickey’s neck and a breathy moan fell from Mickey’s lips. Ian reached a hand up to Mickey’s hair, tugging roughly to get better access to his neck and sucked a mark into his skin, just below Mickey’s jaw. Ian bit down again, a little harder than he meant to but sound Mickey made, _fuck_.

Ian reached a hand between them and spread his hand wide over Mickey’s cock through his pants. He should probably slow down a little, make sure that Mickey was cool with everything, but Mickey jerked his hips up into the touch and Ian could feel how hard he was, his self-control was suddenly shot to hell. He tugged at Mickey’s jeans until he lifted his hips up from the bed so Ian could pull them off. He pulled off his own jeans and discarded them on the floor.

Ian moved down Mickey’s body, leaving a trail of kisses until Mickey let out a little whine. Jesus, he wanted it so bad it actually made him feel pathetic. Ian grinned and sat down between Mickey’s legs. Mickey’s cock was already fully hard and leaking when Ian grabbed it in his hand. He thumbed at the pre-come at Mickey’s slit, stroked up and down a few times before leaned down and let some spit dribble from his lips onto Mickey’s dick before he gave him a few good strokes.

“Where’s your lu-“ he started asking before Mickey interrupted him.

“Nightstand” Ian leaned over him and blindly felt around until his hand got a grip around the lube. Mickey turned onto his stomach and hoped Ian wouldn’t mention the change in position. Luckily enough, Ian didn’t, instead he reached into his jeans on the floor and pulled out a condom before throwing it somewhere on the sheets. He leaned back on his haunches as he slicked up his fingers to admire the perfection that was Mickey Milkovich’s ass, _Jesus_ ; he wanted to bury his teeth in it.

Mickey bucked a little impatiently, making Ian laugh a little as he pressed a finger against Mickey’s hole.

“You gonna take all night or what?” Mickey asked. Ian pushed in a finger in response.

Mickey let out a low moan.

“All night sounds pretty good to me,” Ian replied in a hoarse voice and pushed yet another finger in. He moved his fingers around slowly, letting Mickey get accustomed to the feel. He stretched him slowly, until Mickey completely relaxed around his fingers.

“That feel good?” Ian asked as he reached as far as he could go, brushing against his prostate.

Mickey tried to make an affirmative noise but it came out as a moan, which might have been just as good. Mickey has never described anything as perfect before, but when Ian curled his fingers inside of him and let out a breathless laugh, he might have to reconsider that cause that seemed pretty damn close to perfection.

“Come on, more” Ian smirked at Mickey’s impatience and reached for the condom before he slicked himself up and started pushing himself into Mickey. He groaned through pushing the head in, sliding in an inch or two before pulling back out and pushing another inch back in. He was about halfway in when Mickey rammed back on him until he was fully in and Ian groaned loudly.

“Fuck” the word slipped from Ian’s lips and Mickey let out a breathless laugh.

“You going to blow your load already?” he teased.

Ian thrust into him roughly and Mickey felt electricity through his spine as Ian hit his prostate. His breath hitched in his throat and he let out a low moan.

“I don’t know, does it feel like it?” He asked and Mickey laughed again before Ian started thrusting at a slow, steady pace. He let his hands roam along Mickey’s sides, up along his back until he tangled it into Mickey’s hair. He wasn’t sure why but he felt intoxicated, dazed with the feeling of Mickey, drunk with the scent of him in his nose and his moans in his ears. Mickey started meeting Ian’s thrusts, letting out breathy moans when Ian hit just the right spot. Ian tugged at Mickey’s hair until his back arched and Ian was able to angle his thrusts straight at Mickey’s prostate.

“Feel good?” Ian asked. Mickey groaned.

“Fuck, mm, yeah” Ian knew it was going to be over a hell of a lot faster than he wanted it to be, so he tightened his grip in Mickey’s hair and angled his hips until he heard Mickey moan louder. He was entirely focused on not coming yet and reached around to jerk Mickey off in pace with his thrusts.

“Close” Mickey let out. “Jesus, _Fuck._ ”

That familiar feeling coiled in Ian’s stomach as he reached forward and trailed his tongue from the nook of Mickey’s neck until his teeth were grazing his earlobe. Mickey arched his back and Ian could feel him shiver as he came with a loud moan beneath him. Ian rode him through it and he was so close. He sank his teeth down into Mickey’s neck; Mickey clenched around him and finally sent him plummeting over the edge. He slumped down on Mickey, taking a few calming breathes and let the blissful feeling in his body take over. It took a few seconds before Mickey squirmed beneath him.

“You’re fucking heavy, man.” he grumbled and Ian laughed. He brushed his lips against the sore mark he left on Mickey’s neck and rolled off him groaning a little as slipped out of Mickey. He rolled off the condom and tied it off before aiming it at the trashcan beside Mickey's bed. Mickey reached for the pack of cigarettes and lit one up before falling back on the pillows. Ian was sprawled out on his back, sheets slung low over his hips with a satisfied smile on his face.

“You know, we should talk more.” Ian said after a few seconds of silence. Mickey didn’t answer, he didn’t really have one, so he inhaled a lungful of smoke and raised his brows at Ian.

“Do you think it’ll ever happen?” Ian asked in a dazed voice. He didn’t specify what he meant by it, but he didn’t need to, Mickey knew what he was talking about.

“Does it matter?” Mickey asked. Ian turned on his side and picked the cigarette from Mickey’s fingers. He took a long drag before slowly exhaling smoke in the air between them.

“Course it does.” He said and looked straight at Mickey.

Mickey wondered if Ian actually wanted it to, if Ian wanted it to happen with him…

“But do you think it ever will?” Ian asked again.

“I don’t fucking know.” Mickey said honestly. His wrist, his left one with Ian’s first two initials was lying between them. He hadn’t noticed the touch at first but Ian was trailing his fingers along the black scribbles. Carefully brushing his fingers against the inside of his wrist. Mickey let him, it felt good and he was too fucked out to care so he stubbed out his cigarette and let him self fall into a comfortable lull. 

A few minutes’ later Ian’s careful movements stopped. Ian had fallen asleep with his hand covering Mickey’s wrist, warm against his skin. Ian was stretched out on the bed, managing to cover most of Mickey’s king-sized bed with his long limbs. Mickey felt torn. Falling asleep with someone felt more intimate than having sex with someone and he wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with it. But Ian looked peaceful where he was laying, so he made himself comfortable, being carful not to get too close. 

∞ 

Ian woke up when the sun started to shine into the room. It was quiet, sans the sound of the two of them breathing. He couldn’t really remember falling asleep but it didn’t bother him too much; there were other things on his mind. His hand was hanging loosely over Mickey’s ribs, rising and falling at the steady rhythm of Mickey’s breathing. It was odd, how comfortable he felt like this, with his nose in Mickey’s hair and the warmth of his body against his own. He opened his eyes slowly and let himself get accustomed to the brightness of the room. The marks on Mickey’s neck stood out more in the daylight and he smiled to himself.

Ian’s other hand had fallen asleep, the pins and needles a little too present to ignore. He shifted to let the blood flow through his hand again when he noticed it. It didn’t look real. It took him a few blinks before he realized that it was actually there and his imagination wasn’t running wild. Mickey’s hand was angled towards himself, a few inches from where Ian’s had been. Ian’s first instinct was to reach for it, carefully so he didn’t wake the sleeping body beside him. He reached a hand out and traced his thumb against the I and the C on Mickey’s wrist before it eventually landed on the newest addition, a G.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote the jogging scene a couple of days ago-before Emmy tweeted it today. I feel like a fucking psychic right now, hah.


	7. Maybe, maybe  not

Mickey’s hand twitched a little under Ian’s fingers but he stayed still, breathing quietly. Ian let his eyes linger at his initials at Mickey’s wrist. It was the first time he had actually had the opportunity to look at them properly. The few times where he’d had the chance had been in dim light and too brief to see them very well. The lines were shaky and thin - just like he had expected them to be. His writing looked a lot different on skin than paper.

It made him feel warm in a weird pleasant way, like sunshine on his skin or maybe that was just heat radiating from Mickey himself, Ian wasn’t sure but in the end it didn’t really matter. He ran his thumb over Mickey’s wrist again. In his mind, he had always pictured the lines as smooth against skin but the tattoo stuck out a little, like an old scar or a fresh scrape would. Mickey’s hand twitched again and Ian pulled his hand back, hanging it loosely around Mickey’s ribs again, careful not to wake him up. The sun reached into the room and shone at the exposed side of Ian’s shoulder, warming his skin with gentle morning rays.

Ian angled his hand to check if anything was new on his own wrist but found it as empty as it had been yesterday.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about it, he tried for a second to convince himself that it didn’t matter. But it did, it really fucking did. Fuck it; he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He nosed along the nape of Mickey’s neck, slowly trailed up his cervical curve and caused Mickey to stir a little. He let out a little huff of air but didn’t wake up until Ian placed a kiss on his neck.

“Fuck off,” Mickey mumbled drowsily but the usual bite to his voice had softened and lost all effect. Ian placed another kiss on his neck, unable to stop himself.

“Not a morning person?” Ian asked. He felt a mild interest rouse in the pit of his stomach as Mickey adjusted a little and his ass grazed Ian’s hipbones.

“No, and you’re stubble is chafing my neck.” He muttered and nudged Ian’s chin away with his shoulder.

Ian laughed and pulled his face a few inches away from Mickey’s neck. As he pulled away, Mickey's grip tightened on his arms, keeping him close despite his words.

“What time is it?” Ian asked.

Mickey opened his eyes to check the mostly broken alarm clock on the nightstand.

“S’eleven”

 _Shit_. It was late. Several hours past the time Ian usually took his meds. He looked over at the floor in hope that he had taken the jacket with his extra bottle of pills, but no such luck, he had taken his blue one instead. He needed to get home so he could take his damn meds to alleviate the oncoming migraine he felt materializing in the back of his head.

Fuck.

He reached over Mickey - who almost kneed Ian in the balls in the process of turning over in bed – and got up on his feet. Pulling on his clothes as quickly as he could while maintaining a easygoing façade he tried to think of a good explanation why he had to leave so hurriedly. Did he really need one though? Despite falling asleep at a halfway decent hour and being awake and able to talk moments ago Mickey had almost fallen asleep again in those few seconds it took Ian to dress.

Ian pulled his shoes on and picked his jacket up off the floor. He looked up at Mickey where he was lying faced towards Ian, his hair a little messed up and Ian had to fight down the urge to lean over and kiss him.

“Uh. I got something to take care of, so I gotta go. But I’ll talk to you later right?”

Mickey made a barely affirmative noise and rolled over on his side right into the warm spot where Ian had been laying, nose in the pillow. 

∞ 

Ian walked fast, already feeling a little anxious as he opened up the door to the hallway. He would have proceeded to the bathroom to take his pills but hoped he could sneak in and steal some toast first. Met with the usual mess of his family’s breakfast chaos he slipped into the kitchen almost unnoticed until Jimmy turned around to reach into the fridge. “Hey” Jimmy greeted him as pulled out a carton of milk.

“Did you just get in?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Ian gave him a non-confirmative shrug as he slipped past him to get a piece of toast. “Fiona was worried. She called you like ten times, where were you?” Jimmy sounded like a damn housewife. He looked more like a housewife than Sheila Jackson did, standing in the middle of the kitchen floor with an apron wrapped around his hips and waving a spatula around.

“That’s none of your business, Jimmy…Steve, Jack, whatever your name is this week.” Ian muttered as pulled out a glass from the cabinet.

Jimmy raised his brows at him. “I’m just saying that it would have been nice to let your family know that you were okay.”

Ian wanted to say something back but he bit down a coarse response and reached for a glass instead. He heard Lip call something after him as he walked up the stairs but chose to ignore it. As he ate the last piece of toast he filled the glass with water from the bathroom sink and picked his medicine out of the cabinet. He rolled the bottle of pills in his hand. It would be so much easier if he didn’t have to deal with this, the relief and happiness he had felt this morning had evaporated into the cold air and all he was left with now was a thrumming headache.

Popping the cap open he tried to brace himself for the oncoming tremors and nausea from the taste of the pills. Even after months on the same dosage they never ceased. He swallowed down his pills along with the glass of water in a failed attempt to wash away the disgusting taste of the pills. There was a loud knock on the door and he debated with himself whether to answer or not.

“Don’t be a little bitch I know you’re in there.” Lip.

“Finished in five seconds” Ian said and looked down on his hands, willing the jitters in his fingers to go away. Maybe they were psychosomatic, a physical symptom that had barely been there in the first place and worsened because his mind played tricks on him. Maybe that was just bullshit and he was making up answers to questions that didn’t exist.

“Finished with what? Are you jacking off or something?” Lip asked and banged on the door again.

"No," Ian answered before getting up and unlocking the door. He walked past Lip knowing that he would just follow him into his room anyway, or well, Lip’s old room. Lip flopped down on his bed the same time Ian did and the two of them just stared at the roof for a few seconds.

“So what do you want to do tomorrow?”

“What?”

“I mean, Debbie’s gonna make a cake. And Kev and V is probably gonna come over but aside from drinking Kev’s booze and smoke the rest of my stash what do you want to do?”

“What?” Ian repeated dumbly.

“It’s not like you’re going to turn eighteen twice so might as well enjoy it huh?” He had forgotten his own birthday, Jesus…

“I don’t want to make a fuss. I don’t know. Your plan sounds good to me.”

Lip made an affirmative sound and reached over to knick a cigarette from Ian’s nightstand. “So where were you last night? Mandy wanted to watch a movie but you didn’t pick up your damn phone. Called like five times.” Ian patted his pockets to check for his phone but came up empty handed.

“I don’t know where it is. Sorry.”

“I’m going to go assume that you avoided the first question because coming home this morning was more like a walk of shame rather than a got laid parade?” Lip asked, raising a brow and smirking. Ian laughed and it felt good, relieving.

“Definitely the latter but it doesn’t change the fact that my tattoo hasn’t come in.”

“Maybe it means you’re dying.” Lip said and lit up the cigarette with the flick of a lighter.

“That’s…that’s a great help. Thanks Lip.”

“As an older brother I’m pretty sure it’s my job to be as little helpful as possible.” Lip said, the cigarette hanging loosely between his lips.

“Well you’re fucking great at it.”

“I try brother. I try.” Lip answered with a smirk and passed Ian the cigarette.

“Can you try calling my phone again?”

“Yeah. Gimme a sec.”   

∞ 

What the fuck was that fucking sound? Mickey did a quick take of his bedroom, there was a phone on the nightstand, which was his, but it wasn’t the source of the sound. It must be something else. He had almost fallen asleep again when a loud vibration sound ruined the momentary silence. Clothes and other useless stuff cluttered the floor around his bed but he grabbed around in the general direction of the sound until he finally found the source of the fucking noise. It was a phone. Which was definitely not his. The screen lit up and revealed a background photo of a sunrise. The fact that it was not his phone was even further proved when the phone started vibrating again and the Caller ID flashed Lip in big black bolded letters.

Lip Gallagher. _Ian’s phone_. 

The second thing he noticed that morning was his tattoo. A new letter, just the date missing now. But that was supposed to happen when he fell in love right?  That torn feeling was still tugging at him. He didn’t even know how to describe it; it was kind of being homesick without really having a home. Unknown ground wasn’t a territory Mickey fared into often and being tied to someone felt more like camping than just making a little visit. He was scared, but at the same time he longed for it. 

The whole day had passed and Ian hadn’t picked up his phone yet. It had gone off a few times through the day but Mickey had chosen to ignore it. When it finally stopped ringing Mickey regretted not answering it cause now he was stuck with the damn thing. It felt a lot like evidence, proof that Ian had been there on his bed. Which was further amplified when Mickey went to bed that night. Mandy was playing loud music and Mickey could feel the bass of the shitty stereo through the walls.

“Mandy!”

“What?” She called from her own bedroom.

“Turn the music the fuck down.”

“Sorry! I can’t hear you,” She shouted back and Mickey rolled his eyes so hard he was positive he could see his own brain.

He threw himself back on the bed a little more vigorously than intended and planted his face into the pillow. It surprised him how easily he recognized the scent on his pillow. If he fell asleep three minutes later, mostly because he had the comfort of Ian’s scent in his nose it was definitely no ones business but his own, 'specially not Ian’s.


	8. blood & vodka part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if characters are OC cause they kind of feel like they are but I think I'm too close to the situation to properly judge.

Mickey flicked his cigarette butt at the icy ground and entered the front door. As he swung the front door open he was immediately met with the smell of something burnt.

“Mandy?” He shouted and stepped warily into the living room.

Mandy didn’t answer but Mickey could hear her mutter and being noisy in the kitchen, slamming around pots and pans. Relief washed over him when he saw that there was no immediate danger and he shucked off his jacket before addressing the situation in the kitchen, ever so eloquently. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Mandy gave up on flapping around a dishcloth in the air and threw him an exasperated look over her shoulder.

“Do you really need me to answer that or can you figure it out on your own?”

The oven door was flung open and a constant stream of smoke flowed out into the room despite Mandy’s efforts to tone it down. She mumbled a few curses under her breath and threw the dishcloth away on the counter. With a huff she pulled whatever she had cooked out of the oven and placed it on the counter next to her brother. Mickey studied the burnt dinner.

“What exactly is it?” he asked and picked up a fork to poke at it.

“Can’t you see for yourself?” Mandy asked as if the answer was self-explanatory.

“Uh...lasagna?”

“Exactement, Poirot. Good observation.” Mandy retorted and huffed again.

“What the fuck did it ever do to you that made you want to kill it?”

Mandy rolled her eyes.

“Shut up, I can just scrape off the upper layer and it’ll be fine.”

“You can’t just scrape off the cheese, that’s the best part.” Mickey complained incredulous of Mandy’s lack of understanding the importance of cheese on lasagna. 

“Then you can eat it burnt, jackass. Give me two plates?” Mandy asked and moved over to the couch to make some room on the table. Mickey picked out two plates and handed Mandy the un-chipped one.

“Have you talked to Iggy lately?”

“No, haven’t had the time. Don’t have anything to talk about either, there’s apparently limit of things that can be said through a glass wall and it’s been reached like eight times already.” Mandy answered and put a piece of lasagna on Mickey’s plate.

“You know when he’s getting out?”

“Nah, probably another few months. Can’t remember what he said last time” Mandy shuffled down a few pieces of lasagna before she looked up at Mickey with curious eyes.

“So…got any plans tonight? Hanging out with someone or…?”

“Uh…No? Why?”

“Just asking.. No reason.”

She turned her attention back to the TV. Mandy was about as subtle as a kick to the head but Mickey let it slide. Ian still hadn’t come to pick up his phone. It had been laying on Mickey’s bed for the last two days, going off every now and then but Mickey had yet to return it, simply because he didn’t want to. Amongst the few choices he had, he could deliver it himself, he could give it to Mandy and tell her to pass it on or he could leave it until Ian realized where it was and came to pick it up himself. Since he didn’t want to deliver it himself and Ian obviously hadn’t picked it up that left one option, giving it to Mandy and have her pass it on.

“How about you? Plans for the evening?”

“Going to the Gallagher’s. Birthday party.” Mickey nodded although Mandy had her eyes on the TV. They ate their meal in silence and watched TV until their plates were clean. Both the dishes were swept away by Mandy before she retreated into her bedroom for a while. It gave Mickey some time to think but the more he did, the more aware he became that there was simply not a way to ask her that wouldn’t lead to him being grilled by Mandy’s nosy questions. His time to come up with a better solution had run out, Mandy walked out of her bedroom wearing a winter coat and carrying a pair of gloves.

“I’m going to stay with tonight so I won’t be home. Enjoy the silence while you can, asshole.” Mandy said as she pulled on her boots by the front door.

“Could you just hold on for a few seconds?” Mandy’s brows furrowed, the uneasiness in Mickey’s voice had definitely caught her attention. Mickey reached into the back pocket of his jeans to grab Ian’s phone and tossed it towards Mandy.

“If you’re already going over there, could you pass that on to Ian? And tell him to change that fucking ringtone cause next to your drunken singing it’s probably the most painful sound I’ve ever heard.”

Mandy looked down at the item in her hands with a confused look on her face. At first she thought that Ian must have left it the last time he visited her, but that didn’t make sense. That had been almost a week ago and how would Mickey even know whose it was? Mickey watched as she slowly connected the dots in her head.

“Ian was here with you?” She asked, her mouth falling ajar, surprise evident in her eyes. Mickey trailed his eyes back to the TV and pretended he couldn’t hear the gasp Mandy let out.

“He totally was!” She concluded, unable to hide the triumphant smile on her face.

“When?” she crossed the room and sat down on the armrest of the couch. Mickey remained silent; he knew that Mandy would hold on to every letter read into every single word if he spoke up.

“ _Mickey._ ”

“No.”

“ _Mickey!_ ”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But _Mickey!_ ”

“I’m not telling you shit,” Mickey answered and hoped that would be the end of it. Of course it wasn’t, Mandy’s grin turned into a smirk and she shoved her ass onto the couch next to Mickey, successfully blocking his view of the TV.

“Why? Was it any good?”

“Fuck off Mandy.”

“That’s totally a yes!” She said and squealed again.

“No, I’m pretty sure that was a fuck off”

“Nah-uh. You did the thumb thing.” Mandy said and mimicked Mickey’s movement.

“I did not.” Mickey argued and let his hand drop from his lip.

“Yes you did. It’s the most obvious tell you’ve got. You do it all the time when you’re nervous.”

“I don’t have any fucking tells, now fuck off.”

“Fine!” She stood up from the couch and walked over to the front door to pull a purple winter hat on.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I’ll just ask Ian, he’ll tell me.” Mickey groaned from the couch.

“Nosy bitch.”

“Sure you don’t wanna come? I’m sure they won’t mind. ‘Specially not Ian.” Mandy said with a devilish grin.

“Ian who?” Mickey asked with mock naiveté.

Mandy wasn’t one to let Mickey’s sarcastic remarks faze her though.

“I don’t know” Mandy said with a feigned face of dismay, her tone as childish as Mickey’s. “Why don’t you check your wrist for reference?”

“Low blow” Mickey said. He grabbed a pillow off the couch and aimed it towards Mandy’s head; she barely ducked in time and practically cackled before she shut the front door behind her.

∞ 

Ian swallowed down his evening meds and steadied himself with a grip on the kitchen sink. Liam gurgled from his place in Fiona’s lap and reached his hands over the breakfast counter. Ian was about to lift Liam into his own hands when the door swung open.

“Hey!” Mandy squealed as she entered the kitchen. “Happy _motherfucking_ birthday” She crossed the floor and ignored the look Fiona shot her.

They had all expected that Liam would pick up on their swearing soon enough but when Liam earlier that day had gleefully yelled fuck, fuck, fuck, over and over again, Fiona had called quits on the swearing. At least on a few swear words, it hadn’t been especially helpful though. Debbie had fallen down on the icy front steps of the Gallagher house a few hours later and strung up a line of swearwords that would put even Mickey to shame, resulting in setting Liam off again.

Mandy swung her hands around Ian’s neck in a hug and waddled excitedly from side to side. Ian tried not to get nauseous by the swinging movements and hugged her close.

“So how does it feel to be eighteen?” She asked and released her hold around Ian.

“Pretty close to being seventeen.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. Why haven’t you guys started the party yet? Thought you Gallaghers knew how to throw a proper blowout.” She said and pulled off her jacket.

“Because Kev’s bringing the alcohol, and he’s not here yet. The twins threw a tantrum but they should be here soon enough.” As Ian finished his sentence the door swung open and Kev and V practically stumbled into the kitchen, bags clinking and brushing snow off their shoulders.

“Heeey!” V exclaimed and crossed the floor to place the bags on the table. “Happy birthday!” She shouted and gave Ian a hug.

Not even an hour later, more life than usual had been shaken into the house. Music boomed through the living room, the drinks were flowing and Ian enjoyed the fact that everyone had seemed to fall under a careless lull of light intoxication. Because he had actually missed being able to fly right under the radar, he felt like all eyes had been on him lately and it was relieving to lay back and watch his family and friends pretend they knew how to dance. Aside from V and occasionally Fiona they all looked like idiots, but they were idiots that Ian loved and it didn’t bother him at all that he had been put on Liam duty for the night.

When Liam drifted off in Ian’s lap a couple of hours later Ian decided it was time for him to be put to bed. About half way up the stairs Mandy caught up with him, she was blissfully drunk and plopped down on Ian’s bed while he put Liam in his. Liam was a bit grouchy but fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. Ian walked into his own room and flopped down next to Mandy, stretching his limbs out.

“Mickey said to give you this,” Mandy picked the phone from her pocket and threw it towards Ian’s chest.

When Ian realized what he was holding in his hands he sighed in relief.

“Thanks,”

“And also, he said to change your ringtone. Cause it was annoying. His version of saying that was a bit more colorful but whatever, you get the picture.” Ian laughed and a wide grin spread on his face.

Mandy observed before she spoke.“You’re totally gone aren’t you?” 

“No…Maybe?” Ian admitted. “Getting there at least.”

“Smitten little kitten,” Mandy mumbled and booped Ian’s nose clumsily.

“Jesus” Ian let out a laugh.“How drunk are you?”

“I’m fine, barely two sheets to the wind. Give me another shot and I’ll reach three.” Mandy might have been a little more drunk than she let on. 

∞ 

Mickey was watching some random TV show when his phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up and swiped it open.

 

_**Unknown 2:34 am** _

_U sleeping?_

 

_**Mickey 2:34 am** _

_Who’s this?_

 

_**Unknown 2:35** _

_Ian_

 

_**Mickey 2:35** _

_How’d you get my number?_

 

_**Ian 2:35** _

_Mandy. She practically made me memorize it_

 

Mickey snorted. Of course she did.

 

**_Mickey 2:35_ **

_Well I’m not sleeping. What do you want?_

 

A few minutes ticked by and Mickey wondered why no one had come up with a ‘regret sent text’ button yet cause that might have been handy about now.

Luckily, Ian didn’t leave him hanging for long.

 

**_Ian 2:39_ **

_You wanna meet at the dugout?_

 

It was cold as fuck out, but then again. _Ian_.

 

**_Mickey 2:39_ **

_Give me ten minutes_

 

Mickey arrived first and to his dismay he had been right about how cold it was outside. The roof luckily covered the ground of the dugout so he plopped his ass on the ground and waited. It didn’t take more than a few minutes before he recognized a shadow coming his way.

“Hey,” Ian said a little breathlessly before he plopped down next to Mickey. His hair was a little disheveled, the tip of his nose rosy from the cold and he looked straight out adorable.

“Hey,” Mickey answered.

“It’s freezing.” Ian said but there was a big smile on his face so he didn’t seem to mind too much.

“No shit.” Mickey mumbled in reply. His fingers twitched. It was weird, how every time he was close to Ian all he wanted to do was to get closer.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Ian said and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Your tattoo came in bits right? What if mine does too? It’s just on pause for now.” he asked and absentmindedly grabbed Mickey’s hand between his own. The touch sent a wave of electricity through Mickey’s fingers; he had been scared it would be gone but it was still there, vibrantly flickering between them.

“You’re hands are cold.” Ian observed.

“Yeah, well. I’m used to it”

Ian’s brows furrowed but he didn’t say anything.

He ran a hand through his hair and a few strands fell down into his face. Mickey had grazed a thought a couple of weeks ago, he couldn’t see any signs of what he sure were Ian’s one ambition, the military. Sure, they had talked together before, if a few obnoxious comments when they were kids and a couple one word replies at neighborhood cookouts counted as talking. Aside from that, what he really knew about Ian was what he had tried to ignore when Mandy was jabbering on or what he had observed himself. One of those observations being that he used to see Ian run past his house at few times a week, he used to cut his hair short and wear a lot of camo. Key words being used to.

“Why’s your hair longer?” Mickey asked.

“What?”

“I asked why your hair is longer, you used to be in that military wannabe thing.” There was a few seconds of silence and Mickey thought Ian might not answer.

“Don’t have to keep it short anymore ‘cause I quit”

“Why? I remember Mandy talking my ears off about that army shit, I even remember you running past the house a few times.” He hadn’t meant to say that last part but his lips kind of moved on their own.

“Because I have bipolar disorder and you can’t join the army if you’re bipolar.” Ian answered.

“Bi-what? I don’t know what that is.”

Ian took a deep breath before he started explaining.“Basically means that my moods are elevated. I’ll have periods of time where I feel fucking invincible; I’ll feel on top of the world. I get all these ideas and hopes about things I want to do and goals in life and all that bullshit. It feels amazing but I can’t fucking think.”

Ian’s face turned bitter and Mickey wanted to tell him to stop. He didn’t want Ian to look like that because he brought up something he shouldn’t have.

“I can’t fucking think straight. Everything is a muddled mess and I don’t even know what I’m saying most of the time.” He was silent for a few seconds unmindfully played with Mickey’s fingers.

“Then the worse part happens. I’ll have a period of time where I’m the complete opposite. I’ll feel guilty about every little thing I’ve ever done. Don’t want to eat, don’t even want to breathe, I can’t move anymore, it feels a lot like the whole world is weighing down on me.”

Ian looked up at Mickey then and Mickey kind of wished they weren’t sitting so close. Maybe he would have been able to pretend he didn’t see the sadness on Ian’s face if they weren’t breathing the same air.

“My meds help a lot. I can still tell if I’m depressive or manic but it’s manageable to the degree where I feel fine most of the time.”

Mickey swallowed and wished he could take his damned stupid question back.

“I-uh. I’m sorry”

Ian just looked at him for a few seconds. Then he finally smiled a little and Mickey was relieved to see that there’s no bitterness there.

“S’okay.”

They sat in silence for a few long seconds. Neither of them doing much than look around or hold hands. Mickey felt like their conversation was unfinished. Despite his lack of affinity for emotional talks he still felt like he should say something. He turned to look at Ian to find that Ian was already looking at him.

“I like your hair better like this,” Is what he finally lands on. It was a weird comment. He meant it somewhat literally but also on so many other levels. He wanted to reassure Ian somehow but he didn’t know the words. He never had. Ian’s brow furrowed but then a smile spread on his face and he had this stupid, completely lovable look on his face. The comment hung a little heavy in the air and Mickey felt the need to lighten the air between them.

“Better to grab on to.” He added. Ian’s grin widened and he laughed as shoved Mickey’s shoulder with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally wrote a chapter of 5000 words but then I split it in two, this is part one. Next part will be uploaded in the next few days.
> 
> Let me know what you think?


	9. Blood & vodka part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a motherfucking bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THIS PLEASE :)  
> As previously mentioned, I’m new(ish) at writing smut, or well, fan fiction in general really. But the point is, the smut is probably a little flat but I’m going to practice and it'll hopefully come easier with time? 
> 
> As for this chapter it's like 88 % done and a bi choppy but I'll come fix it up tomorrow, too tired for the time being.

A few minutes went by in silence before Ian stood from the icy ground and stepped onto the snow filled field. His front faced the opposing side of the field and Mickey wondered what the fuck he was doing before Ian answered by wordlessly pulling his zipper down. Ian adjusted his hips a little, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Moving his hips a little in a weird way that didn’t make sense until Mickey understood what he was doing and started laughing.

“Are you-“ Ian zipped his jeans up. “Did you just piss your name into the snow?”

Mickey’s laugh was infectious and Ian laughed a little before answering.

“Barely made it through.” Ian said and picked up some snow in his hands.

“It so damn cold I was pretty sure my dick was going to fall off” He walked back and stood between Mickey’s legs where he was sat on the ground.

“Yeah that would be a shame wouldn’t it?” Mickey asked and looked up at Ian.

“Would it now?” Ian asked and there was a hint of doubt in his voice, not quite disguised by his smile.

“Would miss the big guy.” Mickey answered bluntly and bumped his shoe against Ian’s leg. Ian snorted but the smile returned more assured when he met Mickey’s eyes again. Mickey wondered were all his sudden confidence came from. Things like that hadn’t ever come out of his mouth before and it felt like giving in as much as it felt like defying it.

When Mickey returned his attention back to Ian he found the redhead looking up at the roof of the dugout. Ian reached his hands up with a little jump and curled his fingers round the steel bar before pulling his whole body weight up by his arms. Once, twice, three times before he tightened his grip on the bar and went at it again, his feet dangling dangerously close to Mickey’s face.

“Tough guy, huh?” Ian panted out a laugh and let himself drop to the ground.

Wordlessly he reached out a hand, the message that he wanted Mickey to get up on his feet obvious. With a huff Mickey grabbed a hold of Ian’s hand and purposely tried to make himself heavier as he tugged down on their entwined hands. Ian didn’t yield though, he pulled harder than Mickey expected and they thumped into each other. Hands clutched in the middle. It was an odd position for Mickey to find himself so comfortable in, lodged between the cement wall of the dugout and the steady force in front of him that was Ian Gallagher. Ian wore his heart on his sleeve. Mickey had picked up on that quite quickly but apparently he wore his dick on his sleeve too cause the look he was sending Mickey was straight out sinful. Ian closed the space between them, his hands reaching up to Mickey’s jaw the other sneaking around to hold his waist, pressing them close as their lips met. Ian’s hands were cold but the trails his fingers left on Mickey’s skin felt warm and enticing. The longing that had been a constant weight lodged into Mickey’s chest didn’t feel so bad anymore. Not when Ian was holding their hips together and kissing down his jaw. Definitely not when Mickey grabbed a hold of the front of Ian’s jeans and Ian responded by grinding against him.

“Come on,” Ian said as they separated.

“Where?”

“My place, unless you want to me to fuck you against that wall?” Mickey seemed to contemplate that for a few seconds, thinking it over before Ian’s laugh interrupted his thoughts.

“It’s freezing and as mentioned I would like my dick to remain attached to the rest of my body.”

Mickey debated with himself a little. Not sure about what exactly.

“Everyone was passed out drunk when I left, come on.” Mickey started walking and Ian followed, bumping into Mickey’s shoulders from time to time.

The house was enveloped in darkness when they came through the kitchen door, barely lit up by the dim streetlights. The two of them walked into the kitchen, both of them shuffling off their jackets and discarding them somewhere along the line to the kitchen counter. Ian crowded Mickey’s space again, pushing him up against the kitchen counter. Their lips mere inches apart and Mickey felt as if the air had been sucked right out of his lungs. It never failed to amaze him how breathless he got every damn time that feeling hit him. Ian’s eyes mapped out Mickey face, from his eyes to the length of his nose until his eyes finally landed on his lips. The tension hung between them, it made Mickey’s blood run hot in his veins. Ian spread his arms on either side of Mickey, placing them on the counter as their lips touched. Pain suddenly shot up through his palm and into his wrist, he made a muffled sound against Mickey’s lips and retracted to take a look at his palm.

“Motherfucker.” Ian muttered as he took in the sight of the cut in his palm.

“What?” Mickey asked abruptly. His brows furrowed when his eyes landed on the wound in Ian’s palm.

“How the fuck did you even do that?”

“I leaned of the stupid knife.” Ian answered. Glaring at the knife as if it had personally offended him.

“Fucking idiot," Mickey mumbled, and Ian smiled at the fondness in his voice. "Come here.” Mickey said and grabbed Ian’s hand. A vodka bottle from earlier was fortunately placed by the sink so Mickey grabbed it and screwed the cap off one handedly. Fiona had previously stashed a few safety kits around the house, luckily one was located in the kitchen cabinet so Ian reached around to grab it, clumsily grazing Mickey’s torso with his other hand.

“Oy. Watch out. You’re getting blood all over my shirt”

“What’s it matter? It’s coming off anyways.” Ian retorted. Mickey ignored that and directed Ian’s hand over the sink. He tilted the vodka bottle above the wound and Ian instinctively braced himself for the burning sensation. The alcohol cleared the cut up and the excess blood flowed down the drain.

“Flex your hand a bit.” Mickey instructed and Ian complied, flexing his hand and clenching his jaw.

Mickey poured a tidbit more vodka over Ian’s hand just to be sure it was completely disinfected and accepted the safety kit from Ian. It wasn’t the first time either of them had taken care of a cut but Ian let Mickey poke around. It amused him to see Mickey all concerned and concentrated anyways, with his brows furrowed and his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. The image looked fucking adorable to Ian, he didn’t point that out though, not keen to end up with yet another knife wound. He watched as Mickey picked out a few butterfly bandages and stuck them across the cut.

“It’s not deep, so it’ll probably heal in a couple of weeks.”

“Thank you nurse Mickey.”

“Oh fuck off,” Mickey bit, but there was a smile on his face, lighting up his eyes. That special smile that Ian had found reserved for whenever he said something stupid and Mickey tried to act like he minded. Failing completely. Or well, Ian decided seeing that smile was more like winning.

He let his hands fall to Mickey’s sides, enjoying the feeling of having Mickey so close before he pressed him against the counter and connected their lips again. Ian’s hands wandered along Mickey’s skin as they kissed, skimming across his hips and ribs before he grabbed his ass in both hands. He made a move to lift Mickey up on the counter but a hand at his chest kept him at bay.

“Not on the fucking counter, I don’t want to end up with a knife in my ass.” Mickey said and kicked off from the counter.

“Yeah, _that_ would have been a shame wouldn’t it?” Ian said with a grin as he slapped Mickey’s ass.

“Fingers off my ass if you wanna keep 'em.” Mickey threatened.

“I thought you _wanted_ my fingers on your ass”

“Shut up freckles,” Mickey said and followed Ian to the stairs. An abundance of photos covered the walls of the staircase, both sides strewn with old photos of the Gallaghers, High school photos, Birthday photos, Christmas photos. The photos in themselves weren’t terribly exciting but Mickey had to stop himself when his eyes landed on a ten-year-old Ian with curly hair and grinning wide despite missing his two front teeth.

“Man, you were one ugly ass kid.”

Ian snorted as he continued up the steps.

"You're lucky puberty did you good if not you would've gotten the shit kicked out of you more often than not” Mickey mumbled.

Ian halted at the top of the stairs and looked down at Mickey, an amused look on his face. “Was that a really weird…compliment?”

“No,” Mickey denied quickly as Ian’s grin widened. “more like an observation.” he downplayed with a shrug as he climbed the last steps.

“Uh-huh,” Ian answered, grinning widely.

“Fuck off,” Mickey leaned forward and kissed Ian’s stupid grin off. It was a hard task to do ‘cause that kissing only resulting in Ian grinning wider.

“Shut up.” Mickey mumbled.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were going to,” Mickey retorted. “I could practically feel it.”

Ian’s grin was wide and for the first time the expression thousand-watt-smile had a meaning to Mickey. Honestly, he wanted to punch Ian as much as he wanted to kiss him, but having bruised lips was better than having bruised knuckles by a long shot so he chose the latter. The kiss was rough, and it felt good that way, familiar in a way that Mickey couldn’t quite describe. He had never been good with words, but this, this he could do.

They shuffled through the hallway and into Ian’s room clumsily. Ian blindly locked the door behind him and pulled his shirt over his head before pulling off Mickey’s shirt too. Unlike last time they had been together Ian let his hands wander unhurriedly as they kissed, from the plane abs on Mickey’s stomach to his ribs, he grazed his fingernails along Mickey’s back and let himself just feel. Feel how Mickey responded to his every move, how he arched into Ian’s touch, the way he just fell into his instincts as they made their way across the floor. Ian was honestly a little surprised that Mickey let him go so slow, he hadn’t expected it, not that he minded when Mickey made an impatient groan in the back of his throat. Mickey reached for Ian’s belt and tugged it open with both hands, eager to get Ian out of his jeans as soon as possible. With his belt open and his zipper down Mickey shoved Ian back on the bed. It took Ian off guard and he let out a little sound of surprise that Mickey was definitely going to bug him for. But not for the time being, Mickey had more important things to do, more specifically, Ian.

Mickey straddled Ian’s thighs and connected their lips again. Unable to do much else when he was pinned down, Ian ground his hips against Mickey’s ass and gripped his hips. For a while they just kissed, tongues and teeth gracing each other lips. Kissing freely and boldly, which was something Mickey wouldn’t normally do but it was like gravity was pulling at him and he lacked the self-control to resist. He started moving his way down Ian’s body, placing a few stray kisses along his way. When his hands reached the top of Ian’s boxers he sneaked his fingers beneath the waistband and tugged them down with Ian’s jeans, leaving them around Ian’s thighs for now. He moved further down, placing kisses along Ian’s hips and the insides of his thighs, deliberately shying away from hiss flushed cock. An impatient groan rumbled from Ian’s throat but Mickey ignored him and licked a wet stripe up Ian’s shaft before going back to kissing.

“No fair,” Ian complained. Mickey let out a laugh that cascaded cold air over Ian shivered.

“Would have thought that living in this part of town for seventeen years would have taught you that things aren’t.”

“Eighteen. Eighteen years, it’s my birthday today.”

“Really? Well, congratu-fucking-lations” Mickey said and grabbed Ian’s cock in his fist with a mischievous grin. He gave a few firm tugs before he sank his mouth around Ian slowly. He took his time, swallowing Ian inch by inch until he felt Ian hit the back of his throat. He hummed around Ian; aware of the effect it would have, as he had anticipated Ian’s hips jerked up into his mouth and he let out a ragged groan. His hands immediately found their way into Mickey’s hair and tugged roughly. Mickey let another moan ripple through his throat, sending vibrations along Ian’s cock and received another appreciative groan from above him. “Fuck,” Ian breathed and the sound made Mickey throb almost painfully.

He turned his attention upwards, focusing his tongue on the head of Ian’s cock and his eyes on Ian’s face. Mickey had always had a lot of rules, one of them being that face-to-face sex was a no go. As he watched Ian unravel above him - eyes closed, panting with his mouth slightly open- he realized he might have to reconsider that rule. Ian was definitely worth breaking a few rules for. Mickey refocused again flicked his tongue across Ian’s slit and the tugs in his hair grew more frantic. Mickey relaxed his throat as he sank back down on Ian. “ _Fuck_ ” Ian groaned. Mickey swallowed once and Ian’s head fell against the headboard, Mickey swallowed another time and a low groan fell from Ian’s lips. Mickey replaced his mouth with his hand on Ian’s shaft and let his tongue circle the head again.

“Jesus,” Ian exhaled. “Get on your knees.” he instructed.

Mickey grinned as Ian tugged his jeans down before pulling down his own. Mickey positioned himself on his knees in front the headboard and waited as Ian shifted around, both relief and anticipation washed over him when he heard Ian pop open a bottle cap. Next came Ian’s fingers, teasing at his rim before he pushed in a finger. Impatience seemed to cloud over him and he pushed in another finger hurriedly, Mickey didn’t seem to mind though, on the contrary, he shoved himself back on Ian’s fingers eagerly.

“I’m good. Come on” Ian smirked but kept moving his fingers, scissoring them and stretching Mickey until he was sure he was prepared. He pulled back, rolled on a condom, positioned himself behind Mickey and slowly eased himself into him. Every thought seemed to drop from Mickey’s mind as Ian pushed in to the hilt.

“Fuck” Mickey let out a little astounded. A breathless laugh fell from Ian’s lips, wordlessly voicing of his agreement. Ian waited for Mickey to adjust a little, which Mickey was grateful for cause he could feel Ian’s cock throbbing inside of him and feeling of being full washed over him like a tidal wave. Ian slowly started moving his hips, managing five calm thrusts before his self control shot to hell. Mickey’s grip on the headboard tightened as Ian sped up his thrusts, building up the heat inside both of them in pace with Mickey’s moans. Taking them both by surprise a bang sounded from somewhere downstairs inside the house. Ian stilled his hips and slapped a hand across Mickey’s mouth, silencing his moans. He tried to calm his breathing as a few more sounds were heard through the house. A moment went by and another bang sounded downstairs, Ian jumped and caused Mickey to groan loudly when Ian’s dick grazed his prostate.

“Jesus, shut up.” Mickey bit hard into Ian’s palm.

“Ow” Ian mumbled and let his hand fall.

“You can consider that payback for the ones you left on me.” Ian laughed, soft and close enough that Mickey could feel it on his neck.

“As if that didn’t get you off,” Ian said and grazed his teeth along the tendon of Mickey’s neck playfully.

“Stop messing around and get moving Gallagher.”

As if Ian could do anything else but comply. He picked up his pace from where he left off and let his hands fall to their previous position on Mickey’s hips. It didn’t take long before he was nearing the edge again, he let his head fall to Mickey’s shoulder as he sped up his thrusts. Heat coiled in Ian’s stomach but he was determined to make Mickey come before himself, he reached a hand around to jerk Mickey off in pace with his own hips. Mickey moaned as Ian angled his thrusts just right and sent a wave of electricity through him. Ian kept hitting that spot inside of him and the dual stimulation of Ian’s hand next to his angle was enough to make Mickey’s head rush. It took another five thrusts before Mickey went spiraling over the edge with a low moan, slumping against Ian’s shoulder as his orgasm washed over him. The aftershocks were still spreading through him when Ian delivered a few final thrusts before he finally came. He slouched down on his legs and brought Mickey down with him. He was practically sitting in Ian’s lap, which Ian definitely would have commented on if he had been capable of forming words at the moment.

A laugh rumbled out of Ian’s chest and Mickey answered with an inquisitive sound.

“S’nothing.” Ian replied as Mickey picked up paper tissues from the nightstand to clean himself off.

Mickey decided to let it slide, he was sleepy and it turned out it was hard to give a crap when your head was in seventh heaven. He fell back on the pillows next to Ian to find that said idiot was smiling at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ian said but the secretive smile on his face suggested otherwise.

Mickey went with it though, if Ian wanted him to know he would tell him and if he didn’t care to tell him it was probably not important anyways. Plus, Ian was combing through Mickey’s hair with effortless and sleep-inducing movements and he found it difficult to focus on anything else.

Mickey woke up a few hours later, at first he thought it was morning but the room was still enveloped in darkness and silence. Then he realized what had woken him up, Ian was hogging the fucking sheets. Not just hogging them but he was practically keeping them hostage and leaving only enough to cover Mickey's lower half. Ian was on the other side of the bed, eyes closed and mouth a little open, eagle posed and asleep. Even though he was tired and a bit cold he didn't stop himself from smiling at the sight. There was suddenly a need inside Mickey that he didn’t know he had until now, it never was alive until Ian. Now it seemed like he couldn’t stop himself from huddling closer to Ian and the warmth he was radiating. He nestled up against him, placing himself against the curve of Ian’s side and let him self relax as he breathed in Ian and detergent wafting off the sheets. Ian was still asleep but he wriggled a little and pulled Mickey closer by instinct. Content and at ease, Mickey closed his eyes again and let the gentle rises and falls of Ian’s chest lull him to back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think ? :)


	10. Drumfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on? Of course Ian sleeps on Mickey’s butt. I’m making it canon (am I using this word right? I have no clue) 
> 
> We don’t have detention in my country by the way, so I had no clue whether Carl would have had to sign his or have it signed by his guardian or whatever.

Pale pre-dawn glow streamed into Ian’s bedroom and woke Mickey up way too early. Despite the lack of sleep Mickey found that when he opened his eyes he was completely awake and alert. The meager light that flooded the room made it hard to get a clear view of his surroundings. The only thing he could actually see from his position on his stomach was an overflowed dresser and the nightstand.

He grumbled for a little bit, uncomfortable with the way Ian’s chin was digging into the middle of his back. He did a quick wiggle in an attempt to find his own limbs on the bed but the heavy weight of Ian on top of him made that difficult. Ian was pretty much all over Mickey’s lower half; a grounding arm was slung across his lower back, other than that he could feel Ian’s stubble on the lower part of his back. Was Ian sleeping on his butt? Mickey lifted his head to take a look and then he almost had to laugh. Yeah, Ian wasn’t actually sleeping on his butt more like on his lower back but it was still kind of funny. The lightness he felt in his chest was a little confusing for a few seconds, but the worry disappeared as quickly as it came when he saw the peaceful look on Ian’s face. As if Ian could sense that Mickey was looking at him he sniffled and stretched his shoulder a little.

With a sigh Mickey slipped out from underneath Ian rather ungracefully and tried to find his clothes. He would have had more luck trying to locate a needle in a fucking haystack really because the room was pitch fucking black. He managed to locate his shirt by the end of the bed, which was stained with blood and smelled of vodka; figures. Luckily enough, there was a few stray shirts littering the floor around him and Mickey reasoned with himself that it was Ian’s mess, Ian’s responsibility. He picked up a worn Henley off the floor, pulling it over his head before reaching for his shoes. He plopped down on the bed a little harder than intended and a drowsy grumbling sound from behind him let him know that he had woken Ian up. Ian murmured something sleepily, voice sleep-rough and heavy.

A smile spread on Mickey’s face as Ian’s eyes slid open. “What’s that mumbles?”

“C’mere.” Ian mumbled, smiling a little and stretching out a hand between them.

Mickey wasn’t entirely sure what Ian wanted him to do but he scooted up the bed a little anyway. Wondering about Ian’s intention proved to be unnecessary, Ian’s eyes were already closed and by his even breathing Mickey deduced that he was already back asleep. He timidly reached up a hand and settled his fingers along Ian’s jaw, letting his thumb stroke across the soft skin of Ian’s cheekbone. Ian’s lashes flittered for a fraction of a second but he burrowed comfortably into the touch, sleepily encouraging it.

Ian did stuff like this so casually. Brushed his fingers along Mickey’s or stroked Mickey’s wrist like it was nothing. In itself it was such a small gesture, but to Mickey it felt pretty fucking monumental to move his fingers in a way that didn’t create bruises. He leaned down and brushed his lips across Ian’s temple, which he had never done before; not to Ian and nor to anyone else for the matter. Even though it was new, completely and utterly, it felt oddly familiar. Instinctively, was a good way to put it. Ian made a little sound of contentment as he nuzzled further into the pillow and Mickey was left to wonder where the fuck he had left his jacket.

He found his jacket on the kitchen table and pulled it over his shoulders before exiting the Gallagher house through the same way they came in last night. As he lit up a smoke standing on the back steps of the house in the freezing cold, he suddenly started to wonder why he’d left in the first place. 

∞ 

Ian’s biological clock woke him up two hours later. He showered and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before heading to the kitchen for some breakfast. As per usual the kitchen table was a mess, especially now since Lip was rarely around and Fiona was for some reason not at the kitchen table.

“Where’s Fi?” Debbie gave a vague point to the hallway, her mouth to full of pancakes to speak through. Ian followed her gesture and spotted Fiona by the front door on her knees drying up a wet pool of water just inside of the door.

“Why’s there a water on the floor?” Ian asked and poured himself some orange juice.

“Kev and V left the door open when they left last night and it snowed earlier this morning. That’s why there’s a dent in the wall too.” Debbie said, passing Ian the pancakes on habit before he’d asked.

That would also explain the banging noises he’d heard from downstairs last night, which he was a bit grateful for.

“Hey can you sign this?” Carl stuck a paper under his nose, waving it a little.

“What is it?”

“Detention slip.” Carl said and stuck a pen into hand.

“For what?” Ian asked, already scrawling Frank’s name on the bottom of the note. Lip was the family expert on forging both Frank and Monica’s signatures but both Fiona and Ian did a adequate job of writing intelligible lines that could be taken for Frank’s drunken scribbles.

“It was nothing.”

Ian quirked a brow.

“It wasn’t my fault.” Carl said, quickly grabbing the note before Ian could change his mind about it. Huh. Carl usually owned up to whatever misconduct he had been up to, proudly even, he must have been telling the truth. Ian shot a look towards the hallway where Fiona was still wiping the floor.

“Better not tell Fiona.” He advised.

Carl grinned widely at Ian and slipped the note into his pocket without another word. The rest of the morning went by quickly after that and Ian found himself on the couch watching cartoons with Liam and studying a few hours later.

Tied with Debbie, Liam had been Ian’s preferred company during his recovery. Liam had always been a good kid, he was quiet most of the time and he was content to stay that way as long as he had crayons or SpongeBob available. Plus, he was always willing to share his animal crackers, which for a while had been the only thing Ian had wanted to eat.

Ian still had a test tomorrow, one he hadn’t studied for and his calculus book was practically mocking him from its place on the living room table. He was busy glaring holes into it when his phone vibrated in his pocket and scared the shit out of him; he dug it out and swiped it open.

 

**Mickey 1.13 pm**

_What are you doing?_

 

Ian cast a look at where he was sitting, surrounded by toys and cookie crumbs. Then he thought about what he was actually doing, watching cartoons and eating dry Wheetos out of the packet at one in the afternoon, pretending to be studying for his test tomorrow.

 

**Ian 1.13 pm**

_Nothing, why?_

 

**Mickey 1.14 pm**

_Then come over_

 

No question mark, which made him smile for some reason. Ian realized that Mickey was just as loquacious in texts as in real life – he didn’t even answer Ian’s question. Before he’d had the chance to respond Fiona shouted from the kitchen.

“Debbie! Dentist at three at Tuesday and Ian, Algebra test tomorrow!” she read off the fridge calendar.

“I know.” Ian yelled back from the couch.

“You studied yet?” Fiona asked, leaning into the kitchen doorway, absently flicking through the bills that had been piling up the counter. Ian tried not to shrink under scrutinizing gaze and shook his head.

“You should have said something earlier when Lip was around, he could have helped you study this shit. You know I can’t do anything beyond subtraction and addition, Ian. You know how it is to get your grades up this year.” Fiona didn’t say, but the message was loud and clear.

Months ago, when he was hell-bent on going to the army he had tried his best to keep up his grades and with a little of Lip’s help he’d actually achieved a decent average. Since then his grades had dropped drastically, turned out that going to school was kind of difficult when he could barely move out of his own bed. Around that time he realized that the army was a no go and if he wanted to reach somewhere it would depend on his grades. He just wished it didn’t leave him feeling like such a massive failure. It didn’t exactly rear his motivation to know that he’d failed the one thing he really wanted to accomplish in his life.

“Too late now isn’t it?” He mumbled in response. Fiona gave a deep sigh that was knotted into disappointment and sympathy in one before she walked over to the couch.

“I’ll see what I can do yeah?” she said, giving Ian’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Nah, I can do it. I remember most of this stuff anyways.”

“You sure?” Fiona asked, a bit skeptical.

“Yeah, Lip and I went over this earlier this semester.” that was kind of a lie.

“It’ll be fine.” _that_ was hopefully true.

“Okay, but I expect you to do better on this one than the last.”

“I’ll try.” That at least - was true.

“Good.” Fiona said and ruffled a hand through his hair, making sure to mess it up before she went back to the kitchen. Ian looked from his math book on the table to the still-lit-up text on his phone. Fuck it, he could do both things in one go, he grabbed his backpack, shuffling in his calculator and anything else necessary before kissing the top of Liam’s head and exiting the Gallagher house.

He walked quickly, smoking through a couple of cigarettes before he reached the Milkovich house and knocked on the door. Ian swung the door open, not bothering to wait in the cold for Mickey to come open up himself. “Hey,” He shouted out as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his jacket to the floor.

“Sure, just make yourself at home won’t you.” Mickey called back from the couch where he could see Ian. And Ian did, by plopping down on the couch and taking up half the god damn thing with his long gangly limbs.

“You came to my house to do homework?” Mickey asked with raised brows, looking at Ian’s with his hands down his backpack.

“Not initially, but then you asked me to come over and I kind of got a test tomorrow,” Ian explained as he picked out his books. “Fiona will hand me my ass if I don’t get my grades up so I figured I’d just-” He trailed off, shrugging a shoulder and letting the sentence hang. Mickey slumped back into the corner of the couch.

“What kind of sadist teacher gives a test this close to Christmas?”

“Mr. Hendricks did.” Ian answered, flicking through the pages of a book.

“Should have known, I hated that asshole.”

“And there’s still a week and a half to Christmas.” Ian added.

Mickey fell back on the couch with a surrendering groan.“Whatever. What are you doing anyways?”

Ian huffed.“Studying.”

“Yeah, thanks for that Sherlock. I meant what subject?”

“Math.” Ian groaned out.

“Fucking algebra.”

“Sounds like you suck at it.”

“I do.”

And Ian made that very clear, whether it was intentional or not. Mickey could easily see - even from behind, that Ian was struggling to stay focused and solve the exercises. The constant clicking of Ian’s pen nearly made Mickey surge forward and snap it in half so he decided to be helpful to Ian when he actually could. Mickey was actually good at math, decent at least, more than decent in fact, always had been.

He sat up and leaned around Ian’s shoulder. “Give here.” He said, gesturing for Ian’s pencil.

Ian eyes narrowed for half a second, like he was trying to figure out if Mickey was messing with him or not. He must have decided that Mickey wasn’t cause he handed the pencil over within two seconds time. He looked curious and maybe a little amused as Mickey grabbed it from him and gestured for Ian to hand him his workbook. Mickey focused his attention to Ian’s calculus book and the few exercises Ian had completed.

“Well first off that one’s wrong,” Mickey said as he looked across Ian’s scribbles.“This one is too,” He said crossing out another. “I don’t even know what the fuck you were thinking on that one.” He went through the page in about five minutes, calculating and crossing off the ones that were incorrect.

It took Ian a while too see how many Mickey crossed over, he was a little entranced by the way Mickey made the pencil move so fluently over the paper, never unwavering. He looked confident, not the faux kind he managed to pull off at times but the real kind, the accomplished and courageous kind. He didn’t even look like he was struggling, a barely there frown between his brows as he finished the last exercises before he handing them over.

“I only got 7 out of 12?” Ian asked, a bit offended by his own inability.

Mickey made an affirmative sound. “Guess you actually _do_  suck.”

Ian made a disgruntled noise.

“Give me the book and I’ll show you how,” Mickey said, grabbing it from Ian’s hands before he’d had the chance to respond.

“Didn’t know you had so many secret talents” Ian noted teasingly, grinning as he bumped his shoulder into Mickey’s.

“Maybe I’ll show you one including a lot less clothes the next time, they're a hell of a lot more fun than this.”

Ian groaned. “Give me ten minutes tops, that’s all I need.”

Two hours later and having breached through three levels of frustration that Ian didn’t even know he was capable of, they had finally finished. And Ian was so damn tired all he wanted to do was fall asleep on the couch next to Mickey and sleep for a few hours. Mickey had other plans though, he sat on the edge of the couch as his hand searched around on the floor.

“Jackpot,” he said, picking up a wooden box Ian recognized as Mandy’s.“Literally.” He noted accompanied with a snort as he opened the box and picked out a joint. There was a flick of a lighter, a deep inhale and then Mickey leaned back next to Ian – smoke slowly flowing through his lips.

They were so close that Mickey could feel heat radiating off Ian. No more than mere inches between them now, close enough to kiss if he just reached out a little. He didn’t initiate something though; instead he raised his hand out to offer the joint to Ian.

Ian shook his head. “Can’t really do that anymore. Or well, I can, but it can have side effects and my, uh-” Ian usually refrained from the word psychiatrist - the word was able to make any situation uncomfortable. “-they told me it could mess with my meds so if I wanted to use, it had to be small doses, slowly increasing over a long period of time.”

“Or what?” Mickey found himself asking before he could stop. Ian shrugged.

“Lightweight. In every thing possible.”

“Need me to put it out?”

“Nah, second hand smoke is mostly fine, s'not so bad anyways.” Ian answered.

“If you say so” Mickey replied, sticking the joint back in between his lips. He inhaled, holding the smoke for a few seconds and then he felt fingers at his neck, Ian settling his hand along his jaw. There was a slight press of Ian’s thumb at Mickey’s chin before Mickey let his lips fall ajar. Ian leaned leaned forward and inhaled the smoke that cascaded from Mickey’s lips in curves and twists. Their lips brushed for a moment and it made Mickey feel higher than what he really was. Ian gave him a quick kiss, a barely there press before leaned back on the couch, a secretive smile playing on his face.

They didn’t talk or even move for a while, not until the joint was gone and Mickey was halfway asleep.

Ian had let his hand to Mickey’s wrist and was lazily tracing the imprints there with his thumb. It set off waves off slow thrumming heat through Mickey’s arm in pulses. The feeling was stronger this time than last, like Ian was pouring into his bloodstream, threading beneath the surface of his skin. Mickey instantly felt more relaxed. Last time Ian had done this Mickey had been half asleep and dazed; now that he was cognizant – granted; that was debatable– it made him realize how affectionate the motion was. It was an oddly intimate gesture, exclusively for soul mates…but as long as Ian didn’t address the elephant in the room – Mickey sure as hell wasn’t going to either.

He was sure that if he mentioned anything about the touch, it would bring attention to the obvious question: whether they were soul mates or not. He had no way to be sure but he was willing to bet his right hand that Ian would argue that they were because of Mickey’s tattoo. Mickey on the other hand would argue that they weren’t because of Ian’s lack of tattoo and it was jut a discussion he wasn’t ready to have yet, or ever. They were at a nonverbal impasse and with neither of them willing to admit defeat and cave they had silently refrained from mentioning it. It worked out for now at least. A temporary fix to something that was…potentially not temporary?Yet another discussion he didn’t want to have.

Mickey realized that he was staring at Ian’s hand on his and averted his eyes. Skirting around a little until his eyes met Ian’s and he noticed that he had that expression on his face again. That look that was open and bare. Mickey bit the inside of his cheek as Ian looked back at him, a curios and contemplating expression on his face. The exact same as the one he had been wearing last night, the one Mickey had since dubbed ‘Ian’s emotionally constipated I-need-to-tell-you-something-but-too-scared-of-the-outcome look’. It wasn’t a look that he was used to seeing on Ian’s face; the uncertainty of it was unnerving.

“What?” Mickey prompted; giving into his curiosity despite warning bells going off in the back of his mind.

“Do you-“ Ian said, fingers idly grazing across his own initials as he thought. “When, uh-…when you’re…” he hesitated but it was clear that he wasn’t backing out “when I-…uh“ he mumbled before stopping to a halt.

“Just, spit it out before you choke.” Mickey said, mentally bracing himself a little.

Ian hesitated a little as he worked on sorting out his words. “When you’re like with me or whatever, or not just when you’re with me, but in general I guess…do you sometimes feel like a tug or something?”

“A tug?” Ian nodded and looked down on their hands again.

“Sort of like a pull, a pull of force? Maybe like magnets? I don’t know how to explain it but it kind of feels like a hook beneath my ribs,”

Mickey realized he had been quiet for too long when Ian looked up to urge a response.

“Not that it’s a bad thing though.” Ian added when he saw Mickey’s face.

“Kind of like a guideline, or maybe a lifeline. I don’t know but it’s a good thing, like gravity…it’s grounding.”

Mickey knew what Ian was talking about. That pull in his chest, that need to be with Ian when he wasn’t, that urge that made him want to get closer, that gravity-magnetic-tug-gravity-pull thing Ian was referring to right now. He _knew_.

Mickey snorted. “You’re just high right now, no tolerance and all,” He aimed for blasé but didn’t quite pull it off. If Ian noticed his poorly feigned indifference he didn’t make any sign of it, playing along.

“You’re one to talk. I’m pretty sure I’ve eaten cakes less baked than you right now.” Ian mumbled through a lazy grin, not minding that Mickey had confirmed or not.

“Yeah, well you can definitely eat me anytime Gallagher.” Mickey answered, laughing at his own stupid joke.

“Jesus” Ian laughed out, his head nearly on Mickey’s shoulder.

“You’re game is so bad. How’d you even get laid?” Mickey elbowed Ian in the ribs.

“You should ask yourself about that.”

“Must be the tough boy charm.” Ian mused.

“Fuck you.” Ian grinned, then went back to Mickey’s wrist, fingers smoothing indolently. It left Mickey alone with his thoughts again and with some reluctance he realized that he wanted to tell Ian that he did now, that he did in fact understand exactly what Ian meant. But he was scared of the outcome, and whether he would or wouldn’t have said anything remained a superposition of states as Ian leaned forward and kissed him – enabling him from either option.

Mickey was relieved – this was the kind of communication he was good at. He’d become plenty used to the feel of kissing Ian but it still stupefied him like nothing else could. He leaned back into the corner of the couch, dragging Ian down on top of him as he parted his lips. The kiss was slow, lazy even and although he tried to ignore it- there was an incessant nag in the back of Mickey’s mind. Something about the way Ian had looked at him earlier when too many expressions had fleeted together for Mickey to parse.

Ian arranged himself between Mickey’s legs, scraping his teeth across his bottom lip and sending any halting coherent thought flying away. As far as distractions went – Ian was a fucking awesome one. He kissed down the expanse of Mickey’s throat reaching the neckline of his shirt until he just stopped, stilling fully. Mickey barely contained an annoyed whine and looked up at Ian in search for an explanation.

“Are you-“ Ian stopped himself to glance down at Mickey’s torso a second time, eyes crinkling as his smile widened. “Are you wearing my shirt?” Amused and smug. Queue the shit-eating grin.

Mickey felt a rush of mortification wash over him as Ian’s shit-eating grin reached a whole new level – how was that even possible? “Yeah, you got blood all over mine…asshole” He leaned up to kiss Ian again, opting to wipe the giant smile off Ian’s face that way.

It worked, for exactly five seconds until Ian broke the kiss and Mickey could feel Ian’s smile when he spoke. “Didn’t think a little blood would ever bother you.” he teased, using his weight to keep Mickey from squirming out beneath him.

It didn’t. Never had. Nothing in Ian’s voice made it sound like he believed that either.

“And technically it wasn’t my fault.” Ian argued as he propped himself up on his elbows on either side of Mickey.

“Yes it was, if you hadn’t tried to fuck me into the kitchen counter I wouldn’t have gotten blood on my shirt in the first place.” Mickey argued, giving Ian’s chest a halfway good natured shove.

“Your fault for being so fuckable.” Ian mumbled, grinning at Mickey’s face as the words sunk in. He might have meant them but Ian was obviously just checking how far he could go. Ian apparently had an affinity of pushing the limits as far as they could go – and then some. Or maybe he just a death wish, either way Mickey was kind of stumped for a second.

“For your wellbeing I’m gonna fucking ignore that you just said that.” Mickey responded, blaming the weed for such a shitty comeback but it was probably just Ian.

In retrospect he realized that Ian would ignore the main message and pluck at the pieces Mickey hadn’t intended to say.

“Aw, Mickey. You care about my wellbeing?” Ian asked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Mickey’s lips.

“Fuck off.” He mumbled, sounding a lot more fond than he had intended.

Ian laughed in spite of Mickey’s response, pleased with whatever he’d gotten out of the answer. He was still smiling wide, and the situation felt too much, too full – of whatever was happening right now.  

And at that moment Ian shifted his weight a little, he stretched his arm out and his elbow somehow ended up nudging Mickey in the side. Mickey wasn’t particularly ticklish but that was the _one_ spot that was off limits. With a yelp and Mickey’s knee jerk reaction of a shove followed by a kick they both ended up on the floor by the couch in a messy heap of limbs.

Ian groaned, hitting the floor in itself was kind of uncomfortable; with Mickey’s weight added on top of him it was far more than uncomfortable. Ian laughed and the sound reverberated through his chest. Happy and careless.

“ _That_ I can agree to was my fault.”

Mickey laughed in response. Both relived and pacified he leaned down to bring their lips together.

It struck him, with a sudden painful clarity all of a sudden that he was happy. There was this kind of thrumming beneath his skin, he felt like he was vibrating with it. Ian was everywhere at all at once but instead of clouding his senses, he was strengthening them, burning with him. He was holding on to him, palms sliding across Mickey’s ribs to bring him closer, warm and vibrant across his skin. There was no doubt in either of their movements, no second-guessing. For once he felt like he wasn’t giving in and as if he wasn’t loosing a battle. He didn’t sense how long they stayed there, just kissing. All he could feel was Ian beneath him, smiling into every movement and knowing that he wanted it just as much as he did. There was no push of time or worry, they just moved together with ease and lazy movements. Ian even had the audacity to laugh when Mickey sucked a massive mark on his neck - simply because he fucking wanted to, just because he fucking _could_. It wasn't the same kind of mark Mickey was wearing but he was pretty sure it was something...even if only temporary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't really been in a happy mindset and I can’t bring myself to write (happy?) stuff when I don’t feel like it so this chapter took me a while.
> 
> But on the bright side, it’s my birthday today! I’m finally eighteen, which is kind of awesome.
> 
> Adding this just in case: There have been concerns raised about mixing mood stabilizers and Marijuana. Studies have been inconclusive about the long-term effects but if you’re on mood stabilizers it can lead to increased anxiety/paranoia and for some just a longer lasting/more intense high. So if you’re starting up on mood stabilizers and want to smoke weed it’s advised to start in small doses over a longer period of time.


	11. Limbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back!
> 
> So the last season of Shameless was hugely uninspiring and around Christmas I fell into a pretty nasty bout of depression, which is why this fic hasn’t been updated. Since then I’ve been working on getting better, and I’m finally attempting to create things again. I hope two chapters in quick succession makes up for it? The next chapter will be up within the next few days. 
> 
> Note that I've added some new tags to this. Detailed the description is in the bottom notes.

“Good day, Ian,” Dr. Satomi greeted with a pleasant smile. She stepped out of the way and ushered him into her office with a hand gesture. The scent of rooibos was thick in the air, and by now he automatically relaxed at the smell of it.

“Long time no see, huh?” she asked, gesturing for Ian to take a seat while she went over to the corner table to fix herself a mug of tea.

“Yeah, three months,” Ian replied, plopping down on the Barcelona chair opposite to

Dr. Satomi’s.

She nodded in recognition, the rings on her fingers clicking against the mug as she swirled in some honey. “Can I get you something to drink?”  

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” she said as she settled down in her chair.

The first time Ian had been here, he’d thought it had been odd that Dr. Satomi had been so open about her process. He didn’t have a lot of experience with psychiatrists, never even knowingly met one, but he’d assumed they were more secretive about their observations. Dr. Satomi wasn’t; she said it was his prerogative to know his own progression and was always willing to share her thoughts. Ian found that it was as often a good thing as it was not.

Some of it was difficult to hear; even if he actually was aware of it himself, it was different to see his own mentality mapped out in tests and graphs. It made everything real when it was spread out like that, official like it hadn’t been when he only had suspicions.

“So how have you been these past months?” she asked, hand hovering over the clipboard balanced on her knee. Her face was open and attentive; kind.

“Pretty good,” Ian said flatly. “Mostly balanced, kind of erratic at times.”

“Oh?” she prompted inquisitively. “Your meds aren’t treating you right?”

“Nah, my meds are…fine.”

She raised her brows. “Got that libido up and running again?”

Ian cringed inwardly and tried not to let the discomfort show on his face. The look on Dr. Satomi’s face let him know that he hadn’t been successful– it was kind of impressive actually, that she could say stuff like that with a straight face. There had been _so_ many invasive questions in the beginning, and Dr. Satomi had sat there completely straight faced while discussing things that made Ian want to say ‘fuck it’ and run off.

“Mm-hm.”

“That’s good. How are you sleeping? If I remember correctly you had a lot of issues with insomnia when you started your last round of meds.”

Ian nodded. “Sometimes too much, sometimes too little. I try to stick to routine but it’s mostly all over the place, I always wake at seven or eight when I set my alarm though.”

“How about the nightmares? Have they subsided since our last session?”

“Yeah, I still get them from time to time, but not often.”

She nodded and dutifully jotted it down. “Despite the issue of sleep, do you still make sure to take your medication on time?”

The last time Ian had forgotten to take his meds on time wasn’t all that long ago and that incident was far from the first time it had happened. He didn’t like lying to Dr. Satomi, but they’d spoken about this so many times that he didn’t care to be told how important routine was _yet_ another time – he’d heard it all before, _at length._ Most of the time he took his meds on time anyway. “Yeah,”

Dr. Satomi noted on her clipboard. “And you’re following your workout schedule?”

“Yeah,”

Dr. Satomi frowned a little and looked to check her notes, flickering her pen over the crossed out boxes as she did. “Then what do you think the cause of this unbalance might be?”

There was a rich pause, which Ian was sure he was the only one to notice. “I met my soul mate,” he said, not even bothering to reign in the stupid smile that hijacked his face. “Kind of,” he added as an afterthought, and felt his smile subside a little.

She looked pleasantly surprised before her expression fleeted into curiosity. “Kind of?” she echoed.

“Yeah, it’s a bit difficult to explain. My timer was uneven all day, bouncing up and down like crazy. Then we bumped into each other – or well, _he_ shoved _me_ – and then I felt it happening. You know what they all say…elevated heartbeat, the feeling of a high, the whole blood rushing under your skin kind of thing. It all happened within a few seconds and when I checked my wrist, my timer had disappeared but my tattoo never came in. His did eventually, almost complete now, but mine still hasn’t.”

Dr. Satomi slowly let that information sink in for a while before noting a few sentences down. “Huh, well that’s a bit unusual.”

“Yeah,” Ian let out a mirthless little laugh. “It kind of fucking sucks actually.”

Dr. Satomi regarded him calculatingly and leaned forward on her elbows. “Not that I don’t trust your word for it Ian, but would you mind showing me?”

Ian shucked his jacket off and hitched his sleeve up enough that his wrist was accessible. It was as bare and pale as usual. Like _usual_ , he didn’t particularly appreciate how normal it had become to have his wrist looking like this.

She gestured for his hand and Ian stretched his arm out until she could take a hold of it between hers. “I could refer you to a specialist,” She offered, face carefully unexpressive. “If you’re interested.”

“Like I could afford that,”

“If they’re interested enough they might take your case pro-bono. It is certainly remarkable,” She said, releasing his hand.

“It’s aggravating is what it is.” Ian told her. “And no offence, but I think I’ve seen enough doctors to last me a lifetime,”

She nodded, a sympathetic expression on her face. “The offer stands if you’re ever interested. Just hold on a sec…” Dr. Satomi swiveled on her chair and retrieved a business card from her desk. “Here you go. It’s a research facility a previous colleague of mine works at. They might have some answers to offer,”

 “Thanks.”

They fall silent again, and Ian felt increasingly more awkward as Dr. Satomi did nothing but sit there quietly. Dr. Satomi was a huge fan of silence, long awkward drawn out silence.

“Do you think that there’s something wrong with me?” Ian asked suddenly, “That I’m broken or something?” he looked down on his hands and focused on a long ago healed scar on the inside of his thumb. “I mean, I can’t guarantee it but I was probably dropped on my head as a kid, at least a couple of times – which is probably an understatement.”

Dr. Satomi didn’t even react to his comment; they had discussed his childhood before – in loose terms at least. Mostly when Ian lost his temper and things came tumbling out before he even knew he was talking.

She thought for a while, and then put the clipboard down. Leaning both her elbows on the table, she waited in determined silence until Ian met her eyes. “I’ve been a psychiatrist for a long time, Ian, and I’ve had many patients over the years, many of them in the exact place you’re in now.” Her lips twitched into a brief smile. “And I think that most of us, at some point in our life, have felt a little broken.”

Dr. Satomi flicked a few strands of hair behind her ear and sat back into her chair. “I don’t say this to invalidate how you feel, but I don’t think you’re broken, Ian.”

“Then why do you think it hasn’t happened yet?” He really hoped he didn’t sound as petulant as he felt.

“Soul mate meetings are a fickle ordeal,” She said sagely. “Getting to the point of meeting your soul mate without losing your mind is a feat in itself, I think. It would be easier if it were smooth sailing from that moment on but unfortunately, the meetings in themselves are often a reflection of what a relationship is. A lot of hope and a whole lot of effort, it’s usually not easy and I don’t think it’s supposed to be.”

“So, what? Should I just wait it out?”

“All roads lead to Rome.”

Ian refrained from rolling his eyes. “I just feel like there’s loop holes everywhere, it doesn’t feel definite… what if nothing ever changes despite how I feel about him?” 

Dr. Satomi eyebrows twitched. “How exactly do you feel about him, Ian?" 

And that was a damn good question. And also a question Ian hadn’t wanted to ask himself yet, much less answer to someone else. He was about to say as much when Dr. Satomi cut him to it.

“You’re not obligated to tell me that if you don’t want to. You’re not obligated to tell me anything at all actually; you can even lie if you feel like it. It doesn’t hinder anyone but yourself, but it’s your right nevertheless. I do hope you’re being honest with yourself though, and others it might concern.”

Ian mulled it over a little, not really daring to more than graze past the thought. “I’m not sure yet.”

Dr. Satomi nodded, “But you’re completely certain that he’s the one?”

“I have doubts. For obvious reasons but yeah, pretty sure I am.”

She smiled then and noted a few more words on her clipboard. “How does your soul mate feel about your missing tattoo? I can’t imagine that it’s easy on him, knowing that the confirmation only goes one way and lacking a proper verification of your relationship, eh? Even if there’s an emotional confirmation it’s not quite the same is it?”

“I haven’t really asked. Brought it up once, a few months ago and he got kind of annoyed. He asked me ‘if I still had nothing?’ and of course nothing had changed and then he acted like an asshole, asked me to leave. We haven’t really hashed it out since and I don’t think he wants to either. I’m pretty sure he’d just push me away if I tried.”

“Communication is key, Ian.”

“Key to what?”

She had that look on her face as if she was about to drop a bomb of revelation with a sprinkle of epiphany on him. “Everything,” she said simply. And that was kind of ambiguous and not that helpful.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Dr. Satomi spoke again, “How did it make you feel?”

“How did what make me feel?”

“That he pushed you away when the situation got tricky, it’s typically a go-to defense mechanism and being on the receiving end of someone shutting down can be challenging.”

Ian shrugged but he could tell that she wanted a verbal answer. “Helpless. Like it was my fault…maybe it was. _Still is_. I don’t know.” He heaved a sigh. He’d never been one to share easily and even if he trusted Dr. Satomi it was always a draining experience. “Angry I guess. It’s kind of difficult to talk to a wall y’know?”

“He’s of the sheltered kind is he?”

Ian laughed a little. “Yeah, yeah you could definitely say that." 

Dr. Satomi put down her pen and the clipboard. “So what else is he like? Your soul mate?”

Ian hadn’t really thought about it in depth but as he did, he found it hard to keep a smile off his face. “He’s strong, and brave…smart.” Just the thought of Mickey made his stomach fill with butterflies and that was _such_ a cliché. “And he’s really stubborn,” Which was a trait widely considered a bad quality, but Ian kind of liked that part as much as he hated it. “Loyal above everything else I think.” Ian added, thinking about that time Mandy and Lip had argued and how Mickey had offered to kick Lip’s head in if she needed him to. It was more often an empty threat than not but Ian didn’t doubt that Mickey would if need be.

Dr. Satomi smiled knowingly and Ian wondered what her soul mate was like. Maybe asking would be crossing a line, but Ian was curious and he was sure Dr. Satomi would have no qualms about telling him off if she minded. “What’s your soul mate like?”

Dr. Satomi looked a little surprised but answered his question without much thought. “I haven’t met mine yet,” She gave him a wan smile and it wasn’t quite sad. Dr. Satomi was at least thirty years his senior and nearing on fifty. Opposite to Mickey and Ian’s, her story was a more common one.

“Does it ever bother you?”

Dr. Satomi’s laugh was warm and hearty. “Not in the slightest, I have patience.” She smiled lightly, and then pulled her clipboard back up.

The rest of the appointment they spoke trivially. Dr. Satomi asked a lot of check-up questions that Ian was used to answering – about his medication and how he did in school. At the end of the session though, she gave him a weird look before giving him another very ambiguous line. Those seemed to be her favorite and rarely achieved anything but to confuse him.

“Vulnerability isn’t a weakness Ian, on the contrary in fact, it’s a sign of courage and strength. Remember that will you?”

“Uh. Sure.” Ian said, not getting it completely. Dr. Satomi looked at like she was aware but didn’t bother to comment on it.

“I’ll see you for another check-up in a few months. If you have anything you want to discuss or if you need an adjustment, you know my door is always open.” She said, giving him a pleasant smile. “And call me if you feel unstable, Ian. It’s important that you know you have people to help whenever you need it.

“Yeah, I know, thanks. See you in a few months.” Ian said, tiredly trying to return the smile.

Ian started his walk home, his session had been nice but it had also raised a few questions he didn’t have answers to. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected; it wasn’t like his psychiatrist would have answers to this. Logically, or at least to some degree he knew that he shouldn’t get hung up on his missing tattoo. If he kept letting his mind wander, he knew it would eventually end in more self-doubt and frustration and that was not going to end well. There simply were no answers. As definite as that sentence sounded, he wasn’t sure if he could accept that. He sure as hell didn’t want to.

His already weary mood was rapidly taking a turn for the worse. Worst of all was the fact that he couldn’t tell if he was just having a really shitty day or slipping back into a place he’d swore never to fall back into. Rationally, or at least somewhere in his mind he knew he was just having a bad day, but making himself believe that was difficult. He forced his focus elsewhere and kept a lid on the emotions that were brimming under the surface, it could wait for now.

Fiona was at in front of the laundry machine when he got home, sorting through the laundry and separating them by color into individual hampers. She cast a look over her shoulder when he shut the door behind him. “Hey, did it go well?”

Ian shrugged off his jacket and discarded it on the kitchen table. “Yeah, it was fine.”

“That’s good,” She answered absently, loading up the washing machine with whites. A shirt came through the laundry chute then, one of Ian’s old hand me downs, and landed next to Fiona feet. Its edges were tattered, the thumbholes stretched with use – the blood splatter on the sleeve was a new addition though. Fiona picked the shirt up and assessed the stains with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ. What the HELL, CARL?”

A response sounded from upstairs a few seconds later. “It’s not mine!”

“Then whose is it?” Fiona yelled back up the chute.

“Some guys were being assholes about Liam. Don’t worry, I took care of it,” Carl’s voice was moving down the stairs now. “And by the way, principal wants to see you next Monday.”

“What did _you do,_ Carl?”

Carl rounded the bend of the stairs. “I punched their faces in, obviously _._ ”

“Badly enough to get expelled?” Fiona asked.

“Nah, ‘course not,” Carl answered, swiftly passing Ian and Fiona and into the living room. “I didn’t have my bat with me.”

“Jesus, that kid.” Fiona muttered, kicking the door shut on the washer. Her attention turned back on Ian again and he immediately knew that wasn’t a good thing when she folded her arms over her chest and fixed him up with a glare.

“Dinner’s done in ten minutes,” She said, eying him. Fiona managed to look both pissed and worried at the same time. It made Ian feel guilty, like the time she’d caught Lip and him smoking when he was nine. Regardless, he stayed put and leaned back against the kitchen counter, waiting for Fiona to speak her mind.

“What’s been going on with you lately?” She asked and barreled on before he’d had the chance to answer, “I mean…I get it Ian, you’re eighteen and things have been rough for you this past year but you’re barely home anymore, you’re out all nights, you don’t text to let me know where you are, you’re being evasive and _I know_ there’s stuff you’re not telling me. And I understand that, I _get_ that, but there’s a difference between not sharing and keeping secrets.”

“I...” Ian started, not really sure what to say or feel about Fiona’s words. He grabbed ahold on his neck to try to work through tense muscle, then realized his mistake the second he saw the gob-smacked look on Fiona’s face. He dropped his hand immediately but it was already a lost cause. Now he was going to be interrogated about _that_ too and he didn’t even have any answers himself.

“What happened to your timer? It’s completely gone and why didn’t you tell me?” Fiona asked. She sounded hurt now, still a little pissed off but Ian would have preferred anger any day. 

But well, today he couldn’t bring himself to care; he wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated by Fiona. He was so tired of the damn questions; mostly the ones he asked himself, but having others demand the same made him feel even more useless. None of the explanations he’d thought of so far sat right with him, there was always something that felt off about every single one he’d sifted through. And it wasn’t any of Fiona’s business; it was no one’s concern but his own.

“I don’t know,” he settled for, resigned with everything.

Fiona gave him an incredulous look, “How can you _not_ know? Who is it? How did it happen?”

“Why do you even give a shit, Fiona?”

Fiona’s face twisted and went wry. “Of course I give a shit, Ian. How can you even say that to me?”

“Because you seem to choose whenever to care kind of freely, Fiona. I don’t know if you remember the past year but you were pretty fucking absent. Even _I_ know that and I was out of my mind for about half of it and drugged out for the rest of it.” The words were long over due, and now that he’d first opened his mouth it just came flowing. “And whenever you actually _were_ around bad shit happened, and yeah I know Liam is fine now but it doesn’t change how fucked up that was. You can’t turn your responsibility off like a fucking switch.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Fiona yelled. “And it’s not like _you_ were here either, Ian, you ran away.”

Ian laughed humorlessly. “What, did you finally fucking notice? Took you a while.”

“Oh, that’s not fucking fair, you acted like you were fine and then you refused to realize you weren’t. That’s not fucking fair to use against me and you know it.”

“Fine,” Ian ceded tensely, “But even if you look away from all that you haven’t exactly been around, much less have you been around enough to have fucking heart-to-hearts with me, I can’t see how you blame me for that.”

“I tried, Ian. I still fucking _try_.” Fiona cried out. “I’m here now, isn’t that enough? Cause that’s all I can promise and I do my fucking best. I don’t know if you’ve realized but it’s a little much to handle. And _I know_ this year has been a clusterfuck of shit upon shit, what with Liam and all the shit in between but I’m trying so will you please just let me?”

Ian bit the inside of his cheek, managing to ground himself a little when he felt the metallic tang of blood seep into his mouth. “Sure. What do you want me to do?”

“Just tell me what’s going on with you, please.”

“Honestly? I’m not fucking sure. I’m pretty sure there’s something wrong with me.”

Fiona still looked angry, or disappointed, Ian was too tired to tell but she took a calculated breath and let her hands fall to her sides. “Why’d you say that?”

“Because I haven’t gotten my tattoo yet and Mickey’s gotten his,”

Ian watched as realization dawned on her for a five full agonizing seconds. Fiona’s mouth fell open with surprise and her brows furrowed with evident disapproval. “What? _Mickey_? Mickey _Milkovich_?”

Ian nodded.

“Are you _insane,_ Ian?”

The words hit him like a slap in the face. As silence reigned he realized it was a question she genuinely wanted an answer to. Ian bit down on his lip, staring blankly back at Fiona until she realized what she’d just said.

Fiona cringed, “I didn’t mean it like that, Ian, you know I didn’t.”

“Y’know, I usually don’t mind that you guys don’t sensor yourself around me because I would never want that but there’s a big fucking difference when you actually mean what you’re saying. I’m not fucking crazy,”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Ian.” Fiona repeated. “But you can’t possibly be serious about this?”

“I am.”

“You can’t seriously believe that he’s your soul mate,” Fiona shook her head a little, like she couldn’t even grasp the barest idea of it.

“Yeah, I do.”

Fiona looked around like she was searching for leverage or as if she could possibly find her words in the mess of the kitchen counter. “I don’t think– That’s just…I don’t think that would be good for you.”

“That’s bullshit,”

Fiona sighed through her nose, getting angry again. “I’ve seen first hand when someone like you gets taken advantage like that – ”

“What do you mean you’ve seen it first hand? And what the fuck do you mean by someone like _me_?’”

“The way we grew up, Ian, with Moni – ”

“ _What?_ ”Ian interrupted. Had she just made the comparison Ian thought she did? He didn’t even know where to start on that sentence, what the hell? A memory niggled at the back of his mind, coming to life again with Fiona’s implication. Ian at fifteen sitting on the couch flicking balled up tissues at Frank, and Fiona had told him ‘You look more like mom than any of the rest of us.’ And Ian had replied, ‘He ain’t seen nothing yet’, which was painfully ironic now.

“I’m not Monica.”

“That’s not what I said, Ian. You know I didn’t mean it like that,”

“I’m not like her,” he gritted.

“You have to see that it’s probably not the best for you to be with someone that’s so–“

Fiona reached for him but let her hand fall when he recoiled from it.

“No, just fucking no." 

Fiona took a deep breath, jaw tensing again, voice going back to hard and angry. “I just don’t want someone to take advantage of you–“

“ _I’m not Monica!_ ” Ian repeated, his voice reverberated through the room and the rest of the house fell eerily quiet as his voice died down. He averted his eyes from Fiona; unable to look at her. His eyes fell to the floor, the same patch of linoleum where Monica had slit her wrists and nearly bled out a few years prior. It ached, so bad still.

The staircase creaked and both their heads snapped up to see Debbie standing just around the bend, regarding them both with wet eyes. The wide-eyed look on her face made her look younger, wary. Ian feel guilty straight away, guilty for making more problems and causing more worry, for being angry and creating a mess again. His eyes drifted to Carl and Liam on the couch, he’d forgotten they were there at all.

A phantom weight slowly bore down on Ian’s chest and his breath became ragged with the gravity of it. He grew a lightheaded all of a sudden and it made him a little unsteady on his feet. His fingers itched, urged him to move, to flee and get away. The feeling in his chest reminded him of tipping back on a chair, like that outstretched limbo of nothingness before you inevitably either land with your feet on the ground or fall backwards. Like missing the last step of a staircase. His eyes closed briefly and all he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears.

Distantly Ian could hear Fiona talk but he didn’t bother to listen. Instead he grabbed his jacket and slammed the door as he left. He just needed to get out, make his head clear again.

He let his feet lead him, not really paying any attention where to, just hurried and hoped he’d be able to keep the panic at bay. The cold nipped at his cheeks as the snow had started falling again, swift little flakes that melted when they came in contact with his skin. Focusing was hard, impossible. Not when his heart hammered behind his ribs and his lungs felt so fucking restricted. He took the last steps up to the Milkovich’s front door and prayed Mandy was home. She’d helped him through more than once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a descriptive panic attack, discussions of bipolar disorder and Monica’s attempted suicide (described in a brief sort of flash-back).
> 
> Also, I wanted to say thank you for making this fic reach 700 kudos! You guys are the best.
> 
> Also, special thanks to Pens for being a saint and betating this!


	12. Limbo II

The blue eyes that met him weren’t Mandy’s though. Things blurred in front of Ian’s eyes. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he was crying or light headed from lack of oxygen. Mickey grabbed him by his sleeves and dragged him inside the hallway, hands moving along Ian’s arms, brushing his shoulders, sweeping over his chest – checking for any external damage Ian realized. “You’re okay?”

When Mickey failed to find anything, he looked up to Ian’s face again. “Hey, the fuck’s going on with you?”

The heave of Ian’s lungs had calmed a little, just enough that he felt how sore his throat was and how choked his breathing was. With that thought the panic came rolling back in and he slid down the wall and to the floor, forcing another shaky inhale.

“Ian?” Mickey asked and crouched down in front of him.

The words were stuck. Ian couldn’t bring himself to explain, but Mickey nodded like he understood despite the lack of answer.

“It’s okay, Ian.” 

It wasn’t, really fucking wasn’t. Mickey tilted his head up until Ian met his eyes. He looked disconcerted, which was worrying, Ian had never seen that look on Mickey’s face before. It made him feel worse.

“Ian, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

That was easier said than done, the thought seemed ridiculous. Ian would have laughed if he could, but instead he hitched around another shaky breath and closed his eyes.

Mickey placed both his hands on Ian’s neck, forcing his attention again. “Ian, _breathe._ ”

Ian let his head thump against the wall behind him with a forced, shaky exhale. The next breath came easier but his pulse was still soaring, which Mickey could probably feel thrumming against his fingers.

“Just open your eyes, please.”

He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t want to. He trusted Mickey, he did but it went from every instinct to be so bare and open.

“Just follow my beat, okay? You can do that, right?” Mickey said, placing one of Ian’s shaky hands on his chest. Ian tried. He did his best to focus on the slow, steady rhythm of Mickey’s heartbeat. The ways his chest expanded and fell with each solid inhale, the steady rise of his lungs beneath his ribs. It went against every one of his instincts to be calm right then, but he knew he was at a safe place, knew Mickey was too. Slowly each breath turned a little more controlled. The hitches lessened and evened out to match Mickey’s steady ones. It took a while, Ian couldn’t really tell. Minutes and seconds and blurred but he felt his own pulse slowing finally, reaching a cadence close to controlled.

Ian had opened his eyes sometime in the middle of it all, but didn’t meet Mickey’s eyes until then. Mickey didn’t look away as Ian had expected him to, instead he held his gaze with a softer expression than usual. Tears stung Ian’s eyes and he wanted to shy away, but Mickey only brushed the tears away with a careful thumb and thankfully didn’t comment.

Neither of them moved for a while. They just sat there in soft silence, only ever marred by the sound of cars passing by or the far away screams of kids playing in the fresh snow. Eventually Ian noticed how uncomfortable his position was, the floor was too hard beneath him and the wall behind him was rough on his spine.

“Want to move somewhere more comfortable? There’s a shoe poking my ass, and not in a good way,” Mickey said, casting a glance at the mess of jackets and discarded clothes around them.

“Yeah,” his voice sounded a little hoarse. Mickey moved them to the couch, and let Ian rearrange their bodies until he was comfortably pressed up with his back against Mickey’s chest, fitting into the V of Mickey’s legs.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a few minutes, when he trusted his voice again.

“What for?" 

And that was definitely not the response Ian was expecting. “For bringing you in to this. Into…all of this. Family stuff.”

“It’s okay,” Mickey told him, then nudged Ian’s cheek with his own.

Which, again, was not the response Ian had been expecting. Mickey was eerily quiet after that and Ian felt way too tired to analyze his silence. Tiredness always followed. He hadn’t lost his head like that often, but the one thing that was always consistent was the exhaustion that came rolling in like a tidal wave straight after. But he wasn’t ready to pass out just yet, even if he was longing to.

“My mom slit her wrist on thanksgiving a few years ago. And I’m – I’m just like her. Sick, I mean, fucked in the head. And I – I don’t want to end up like that, I don’t want to be like her.”

He always did have a different relationship with his mother than the rest of his siblings did; it was true, even if it hurt a little to admit. It scared him how alike they could be sometimes.

“You’re not,” Mickey said, voice going firm again.

“I am though, she’s just like me. Or rather I’m just like her, I guess. I have fucked up genes."  

“Genes or not you don’t have to be like her.” Mickey countered. “In the same way I don’t have to be my dad,” he added with a shrug that jostled Ian a little. “You’re not more your mom than I’m my dad. It’s your choice, just like it’s my choice not to get locked up for life for first degree murder.”

Ian wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Even underneath the hazy sleepiness he still felt awkward about the way he’d reacted earlier and felt the urge to apologize again. He didn’t though, knowing that Mickey would brush it off again if he did. “Doesn’t mean I’m still not crazy though.”

“Fine, you’re a little crazy. So what?”

“You’re really fine with it?”

“Would I still be here if I wasn’t? And who the hell isn’t at least a little bit fucked in the head in this neighborhood?” Mickey asked. Ian wanted to turn around, wanted to see Mickey’s face but when he twisted, Mickey’s grip around him tightened. Ian resettled, and Mickey’s fingers came up to softly card through his hair. The movement growing more confident as Ian leaned into it and eventually he fell asleep, still hearing Mickey’s heart beating steadily beneath him.

Mickey wasn’t aware of how much time had passed when he woke up to the entry door swinging shut. “Hey,” Mandy greeted. She came to a stop when she spotted the two of them the couch. Normally this would have instigated an amused leer and at least a comment, but Mandy must have detected that this wasn’t the time by whatever she could read from the scene in front of her. “He okay?” She asked softly.

“Yeah,” Mickey answered, trying in vain to straighten up beneath Ian’s weight. “I thought you were staying at Lip’s dorm?”

Mandy nodded, “I am. I just came home to grab a quick shower. Trust me when I say the communal shower at that place isn’t something I’d ever touch – not even with a fucking ten foot pole. I’m pretty sure you can get all kinds of shit by just touching the walls alone.”

“Just don’t use up all the hot water.”

Mandy snorted, “Yeah right, I was actually planning on showering more than five minutes.” 

“Bitch,” Mickey muttered.

Mandy turned around and smiled, gaze flickering to Ian and back again. “Dickface.”

As the shower turned on Mickey let himself doze, thanking the universe that Mandy forewent her usual caterwauling. It wasn’t that much later when he was woken up yet again by Mandy. This time she was slamming the kitchen cupboards shut with such ferocity it was a wonder they didn’t fall off their hinges – so much for peaceful sleep.

“Who the fuck stole all my cherry pop tarts?” Mandy whined, slamming another cabinet shut and muttering to herself in the kitchen. Ian twisted around under Mickey’s arm until they were chest to chest, his chin digging into Mickey’s sternum as he gave him a sleepy smile, his hair all mussed up. Mickey, despite himself, couldn’t keep rein his smile in.

“You think this is funny assholes?” Mandy asked, waving the empty box at them.

Mickey raised a brow at her. “It’s creepy how protective you are of your food, y’know. Are you saving up for a cold winter or something?”

“Actually, I’m tempted to start if you all are going to keep eating up my food.”

“This one time Carl almost stabbed me with a fork when I tried to steal one of his nuggets.”

Mandy considered that for half a second, “Hell, I would too.”

Ian’s answer got cut off when footsteps sounded on the front steps. Mickey looked over to Mandy but her brows were only furrowed in confusion. The front door opened without a knock. Mickey immediately tensed, there weren’t many people willing to step into their house without knocking, just…family.

Iggy gave a big smile as he slammed the door behind him and kicked off his shoes. Mickey was torn between shoving Ian off him and getting between him and Iggy. He wasn’t sure what the fall out was going to be or what Iggy might do, but Iggy didn’t even react. His smile didn’t even falter as he stepped into the living room.

“Hey,” Iggy said, sounding nothing but happy to be home again. “Gallagher,” he said and gave Ian a nod and a mocking salute.

Iggy must have read the look on Mickey’s face and promptly rolled his eyes. “I’m not as stupid as dumbs as you think, asshole." 

Mickey’s mouth fell shut with a click and Ian turned to him with an eyebrow questioningly. Mickey wasn’t exactly sure what Ian was wondering about, but all he managed to do was shrug.

“Also,” Iggy said, “you were kind of shit at hiding your porn.”

Mandy laughed then. “Oh my god. That reminds me, Ian had this folder behind the–”

“Mandy,” Ian hissed, breaking her off mid sentence, his cheeks flaring up in a way that Mickey immediately chastised himself for thinking of as kind of cute. “Did Lip really fucking tell you about that?” Ian groused, letting his head fall forward to the side of the couch to hide his face.

“Nope. Was looking for that extra baggy of good weed you keep in the dresser and it just kind of fell out, it was easy to guess who it belonged to considering the content. I mean, you didn’t even _try_ to hide it properly, and you did a really shitty job with the glue.”

“What folder?” Mickey asked Ian.

"I have no clue what you’re talking about. None at all, whatsoever.”

Mickey quirked a brow, “Really? You gonna go with that?”

Ian crawled up into a sitting position and leaned against the other corner of the couch. “Yes, and I’m sticking to it until I’ve had the chance to burn it.”

Iggy wandered over to where Mandy was standing in the kitchen, got a beer out from the fridge, popped it open on the kitchen counter and took a long swig.

“I didn’t think you were getting out for months.” Mandy said.

Iggy shrugged a shoulder, “Good behavior.”

“Good behavior?” Mickey repeated, dumbfounded. “What the fuck? Since when do you _behave_? Did you pay someone off?”

“Nah, Tommy owed me a favor after the haul we did last year and pulled some strings.”

“Bulls eye Tommy?” Mandy asked.

“That’s the one.”

Iggy downed the last of his beer in one go and slammed it down on the countertop with a satisfied sigh. “Nice to see you guys, but I got better plans than hanging around you losers all day, gonna go see my girl, see if she’s still pissed at me.” He flashed them a smile before exiting through the back door.

Well that was anticlimactic, in a surprisingly good way. The relief felt good. Mickey hadn’t expected Iggy to react the way he did, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about it. Mandy gathered all her stuff a few minutes later, shoving off with ‘see you later’ and running off to get to the L in time. Leaving Mickey and Ian in silence.

“You feel any better?” Mickey asked after a while, prodding at Ian’s knee.

Ian snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, “Yeah, thanks.”

“You hungry?”

“Always." 

With that and in his own hunger in mind, Mickey jumped off the couch and headed to the fridge. “Uh, we got some left over pizza but it’s Mandy’s half, which means pineapple." 

“Pineapple’s good,” was Ian’s response from the living room.

“What? _No_. Pizza is good as it is, who the fuck thought adding _fruit_ would improve it?”

“You make it sound like pineapple has personally offended you in the past.”

Mickey snorted. “It has, when it’s on _pizza._ ” He said and started transferring the pineapple on his share over to Ian’s.

“Y’know, you could stay for a few days,” Mickey said, as casually as he could, grateful that Ian couldn’t see his face at that moment. “Until things with your family die down a little.”

“Are you inviting me for a sleepover, Mickey?”

Mickey didn’t need to see Ian’s face right then to know he was smirking.

“Fuck you is what you were invited to,” he called back.

There was no answer but Ian’s laughter resonating off the walls.

∞

Mickey watched the planes of Ian’s back as he stretched his arms above his head to pull his shirt off. The soft glow emanating from the bathroom contoured the dips and hollows of Ian’s back, angling his shoulder blades and making them more prominent than usual. Mickey had never been one to let his eyes linger for too long, not with the threat of his father’s words hanging over his head. For once he let himself and found it harder than usual not to want to touch.

His eyes fell to Ian’s hands when he turned, watching as dexterous fingers handled the clasp of his belt open, popping the button. “You could join me you know,” Ian suggested and Mickey finally managed to tear his eyes off Ian’s hands and looked back up, just in time to catch the gleam of Ian’s teeth before he headed through the doorway and into Mickey’s bedroom.

It wasn’t even something worth thinking about, Mickey was already half naked by the time he reached his bedroom and had his jeans undone by the time he made it to the bathroom. 

Ian was still in the process of ridding himself of his jeans, so before he’d had the chance to steal the best spot in the shower, Mickey passed him and hopped in. Despite what Mandy had said earlier, there’s still hot water left and he couldn’t help but let out a pleased groan at the heat of it.

He grabbed the bottle of soap from the shelf and started washing, perfunctory and quick like usual. In a house full of people it was kind of a necessity. A pair of hands grabbed his hips from behind and made him startle. The bottle between his hands slipped and in an effort to grab it he managed to squeeze half the bottle’s contents on the wall in front of him.

“Sorry,” Ian murmured, and didn’t sound sorry at all. “Tropical fruit punch, though, really?” He asked amusedly. Mickey hummed in lack of a better response and Ian relented enough of his grip to let Mickey move forward to turn the shower head down the wall and clean the soap off.

When he was done, he passed the bottle back to Ian’s awaiting hand and fully stepped under the spray to wash the suds out of his hair. They traded places for about a minute, until the water cooled on Mickey’s skin and he nudged Ian’s back to get back under the spray. Ian didn’t seem to mind, in fact he seemed to prefer it that way judging by the way he leaned over Mickey, further incasing him in heat and rested his chin on his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss there, tongue flicking out teasingly as his hands made a path down along Mickey’s torso, teasing along his cock for just a moment before retreating, going back up his sides. Briefly they passed over his nipples, thumbing them roughly before detouring again. His fingertips made their journey to Mickey’s spine, light but firm, and then to the swell of his ass. A hot wave of arousal surged through Mickey and he arched his back a little, urging Ian to take it as the invitation it was. Ian’s fingers dipped lower, sliding down between his cheeks to rub at his hole.

The gasp Mickey let out thankfully got swallowed by the sound of the shower and he let himself be steered forward by Ian’s hands, his own coming up to steady himself on the wet tiles. This was hardly the first time Mickey has fingered himself without lube so he knew how to relax his muscles, how to distract himself when one of Ian’s fingers slid into him easily, entering without much reluctance.

He kept going like that, stretching him slowly like Mickey wasn’t pressing back on his fingers eagerly, as if he wasn’t hard and hot against the small of Mickey’s back. The second finger stung a little more and Mickey found himself wincing at the stretch of it, grimacing.

“Water makes shitty lube,” he groaned, regrettably shoving off the wall and letting his loll back on Ian’s shoulder, whose only response was to chuckle and let his fingers slip back out. They stay under the warm spray for a moment longer, but eventually stumbled out of the shower gracelessly, knocking elbows and bumping into each other. 

“This shower is way too fucking small,” Ian griped, stretching over Mickey’s shoulder to reach for a towel. 

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty it wasn’t bought with the intention of two fags fucking in it.”

Ian snorted and threw one of the towels over Mickey’s head, grabbing with both hands and rubbing. “What is this?” Mickey asked as Ian continued his ministrations, unperturbed. The towel brushed over his ears and down his neck and throat. “Full service?” 

The towel dropped around Mickey’s shoulders and Ian followed it with his hands, drying his chest and down his arms. 

“Does it come with a happy ending?”

Ian’s mouth pulled up in an indulgent smile and he tipped Mickey’s chin up with his hand, leaning in to drop a quick kiss on his mouth. Mickey didn’t let him pull away though; his hand surged up and caught Ian around the neck, tugging him down to meet his lips again. With a small sigh Ian opened up for him, responding in kind and licking into Mickey’s mouth in a way that made a jolt go straight to his cock.

The towel dropped to their feet and Ian crowded in closer, lining their bodies up and pressing in until Mickey’s lower back hit the sink. The porcelain was cold against his overheated skin but he leaned into it regardless, letting his head thump against the mirror as Ian sucked and kissed the sensitive skin of his neck. Their hips slid together, skin still wet with water and Mickey bucked up against that pressure, moving to the rhythm of Ian’s hips.

Their cocks lined up, barely, when Mickey stood on the tip of his toes and so Ian ran his around the back of his thighs to give him the extra push he needed. Mickey grabbed both their half-hard cocks in hand; relishing the way Ian’s mouth went slack with a groan against his. For a second they stayed like that, breaths hitching as Mickey worked his fist. Their noses bumped and Ian found his lips again, tongue teasing past Mickey’s lips. When they parted Mickey opened his eyes a little, just enough to see Ian’s mouth and his flushed cheeks before connecting their lips again.

A drop of pre-come gathered at slit of Ian’s cock and Mickey dragged his thumb over the head roughly, letting it slick his grip. Ian bucked in response, his grip on Mickey’s ass tightening. Letting out a low whimper, Mickey let his fall back against the mirror, biting his lip to keep from making any more noises when Ian’s hands squeezed his ass again. Ian pulled apart his cheeks and hitching Mickey’s legs further up.

Mickey shoved Ian’s body away from himself gently before he got lifted off the floor entirely. “Come on. Bed.” He gave Ian’s red lips another kiss. “I need you to fuck me.”

It was immensely satisfying to watch Ian’s gaze turn unfocused with that mental imagery. Mickey hadn’t thought that Ian’s pupils could go any darker.

By the time they reached the bed Ian looked about ready to shove him onto the bed and pounce but Mickey gently pushed him down onto the bed before he’d had the chance. He straddled Ian’s thighs, staying on his knees as he rifled around on the headboard for the lube.

With one hand he steadied himself on Ian’s stomach and with the other he started stretching himself, all the while keeping all his attention on Ian. Watching the way his mouth dropped open when Mickey first pressed two fingers into himself, the way his tongue came out to flick over his lips when Mickey fucked himself back down on them, raising his hips slowly before dropping back down.

Ian didn’t stay idle for long though; he shifted on the bed and sat up enough to lave kisses on Mickey’s jaw and tease the sensitive skin at the top of his neck. The sound Mickey made when Ian found that one amazingly sensitive spot was utterly embarrassing and still he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into it as Ian mercilessly took at advantage of it.

Just then Mickey’s fingers grazed that glorious spot inside of him and he let his eyes fall closed, loosing himself in the feel of it, thinking about how good it was going to feel to have Ian’s cock inside of him again. As soon as he felt ready he added another finger, going so far to stretch himself a little on a fourth. The memory of how sore he was after last time still fresh in his mind.

“Com’on, you’re killing me here.”

Mickey opened his eyes again and took in the flush on Ian’s cheeks, the lust clouding his eyes. The second Mickey deemed himself ready Ian reached for a condom, rolling it on so quickly that Mickey couldn’t help feel a surge of smugness in his chest. He lined Ian’s cock up to his hole and sunk down slowly, feeling it fill him up, thick and hot.

“Jesus fuck,” Ian murmured, sounding for all the world like he was doing his damnedest to restrain himself. Which was probably for the best. Mickey took a minute to adjust, then slowly started to roll his hips when it didn’t feel like he might come just from the feeling of Ian’s cock stretching him wide.

Ian’s grip on his thighs tightened convulsively as he did. So Mickey went slow, raising himself with a hand on Ian’s outstretched thigh and dropping himself back down hard. The bed creaked slightly and Mickey found himself grateful once again that the house was empty.

Experimentally, Mickey shifted his hips a little and leaned forward to balance himself on Ian’s stomach, which worked brilliantly as it shifted Ian’s cock inside of him. With each rise and fall of his hips, Ian’s cock brushed right over that spot inside of him, making Mickey moan at each pass of it.

Ian relaxed against the bed again; letting out hushed moans now and again when Mickey rolled his hips just right. One of Ian’s hands came to grip Mickey’s ass tightly, while the other smoothed up to Mickey’s chest to flick a nipple, teasing it into a tight peak.

He’d been with Ian enough that he recognized the signs by now. The way Ian’s breath hitched, the way his hips couldn’t stop from jerking unconsciously, the tightening of his abs beneath Mickey’s hand. And Mickey didn’t want it to end yet, so he slowed down the pace and ground his hips instead, delighting in the noise Ian let out.

“Fuck.”

Mickey grinned and wasn’t at all surprised when he got steered forward until they were lying chest to chest, giving Ian the purchase to take the reigns for a bit. With Ian’s hands on his thighs, guiding him back and forth he could easily duck his head and press an open-mouthed kiss to Ian’s lips, drawing a deep groan from him.

He stayed like that for a while. Braced over Ian’s body as they kissed, just letting himself be moved however Ian wanted him. When Ian’s hitched by his ear again and his thrusts sped up, his fingers flexing on Mickey’s thighs Mickey sat back up.

The groan Ian let out made Mickey smirk as he set the pace, sinking down on Ian’s cock in torturously slow movements. Before he knew it he found himself flipped over with his back down on the bed, laughing breathlessly as Ian fucked into him, his laughter giving in to gasps as Ian’s cock hit all the right places. The way their mouths met could hardly be called a kiss, much more a shared breath than anything.

Suddenly Ian’s hips stuttered and his mouth slipped from Mickey’s to his jaw, a punched out noise leaving him as he came. Mickey let Ian ride it out, content to lie there as Ian worked through it, thrusting deep and hard.

Mickey’s cock was still trapped between their stomachs, desperate for friction but before he’d even had the chance to ask for anything, Ian was already pulling out of him with a slick sound and making his way down between Mickey’s legs. The wet heat of Ian’s mouth enveloped the head of Mickey’s cock and the intensity of it, after being left without any direct stimulation for so long left him arching off the bed and swearing, frantically digging his fingers into the sheets.

Two fingers teased at his hole, dipping in gently before retreating again and gently tracing his rim.

“For fuck sake, Ian, please just –” Mickey trailed off into a groan as two of Ian’s fingers slid inside of him, seeking out his prostate immediately and pressing. Mickey’s hips twitched, torn between grinding back down on Ian’s fingers and pushing into the heat of his mouth. Ian’s other hand clamped down on his hip, keeping him still as he worked his mouth down Mickey’s cock.

The steady stream of words falling from Mickey’s mouth probably didn’t make any sense but Ian didn’t seem to need any directions. He lavished the head of Mickey’s cock with skilled licks with his tongue, teasing moans and gasps and curses right out of Mickey’s mouth. Applying relentless pressure to his prostate until Mickey came, feeling as if there was nothing in the world but Ian’s hands on him.

It seemed to draw out for ages, and by the time Ian had teased the last of his orgasm out of him he felt overly sensitized and shaky. The tension in his body uncoiled and he sank deeper into the bed, leaden with satisfaction.

Ian’s fingers slipped out of him and with one last gentle lick, he let Mickey’s cock fall from his mouth too. Time slipped away from Mickey’s and he found himself drifting off for a few minutes, not quite asleep but not quite awake either. When Mickey came to again Ian was absently drawing patterns on Mickey’s ribs, still panting softly against his skin.

“Shit,” he breathed.

Mickey hummed. “That was good.”

“ _Good?_ ” Ian repeated, raising his head to glance at Mickey, looking all kinds of ridiculous with his hair sticking up in all directions. “That was _amazing_. We need to do that again.”

Mickey laughed as hard as he managed, still a little breathless and feeling overly pleased with himself.

Ian shifted on the bed, having no doubt forgotten the condom up until that moment and separated himself from where they were still stuck together, sweaty and sticky.

“I think we need another shower.”

Mickey groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the second part of the chapter. I hope you guys like it! It'll probably be a while until the next chapter, but hopefully less than a year this time around...
> 
> Also, it would help immensely if I could get some opinions on this: obviously the initials part of the tattoo would stay, but should I drop the date? I'm starting to think it's a bit...redundant maybe with the date as well. And it sounds a bit dumb doesn't it?


End file.
